For Tomorrow Ye May Die
by Stone Dog
Summary: Stress has a way of crumbling walls and shattering souls, and Snape finds himself falling back on old habits. Rated for drug use and language
1. Chapter 1

He sat and stared morosely at the innocuous little bottle and thin needle. His hands shook with the effort of staying away from the two small objects that were currently the focus of his entire being - a bloody hand trampled into the dirt - For some unfathomable reason, he had made a short detour down Nockturn Alley and into his old stomping grounds and had purchased the heroin and syringe as if the last fifteen - stretchy gooiness of congealing blood - years hadn't occurred.  
  
No, you know why you did it. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he licked his lips. You still want it. Fuck your control. The stress of his role as a double agent compounded with the summer holiday's dearth of distractions left him with little to do but wait anxiously for a summons from the Dark lord.  
  
A bead of sweat rolled down his hooked nose and hung for a moment before falling to the table. He winced at the almost inaudible 'blip' as it splattered - drip, drip, drip, good job, Son, now try it again, with feeling... No! Shut up! Go away, you're dead!  
  
He hitched a breath as his hand shifted almost of its own accord and touched the thin glass cylinder of the syringe. His gut contracted and his already shallow breathing quickened as he picked it up - damn you, boy! It's just a bloody animal! - The thin metal spike glinted in the firelight and vibrated with the shaking of his hand.  
  
A sudden green flare in the fireplace - silent death - made him drop the syringe to the desk, where it rolled with a clink against the small brown glass bottle of milky heroin. He grabbed both and shoved them into a drawer just as Remus Lupin's head appeared in the fireplace.  
  
"Severus, Dumbledore wants you to come to the Order meeting, since you didn't show up to the one last week." Lupin's soft voice was barely audible over the pounding blood in Snape's ears. He channeled his mounting frustration into a black glare.  
  
"And the esteemed Headmaster sent his dear little pet werewolf to deliver the message. How sweet." He shot Lupin an arrogant glare before deliberately turning his back on him.  
  
"Oh, come on, Severus. You never leave your dungeons down there. Come and get some sun." His head disappeared momentarily before popping back with a cheerful grin. "'The Headmaster says that's a direct order."  
  
"Oh my, then I must obey, mustn't I?" His eyes narrowed. "Move over, Lupin."  
  
*********  
  
He stepped out of the fireplace and into the busy kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The sudden change in temperature made him momentarily dizzy and he almost stumbled into Lupin.  
  
"Get your paws off of me!" he snarled into the werewolf's face before stepping back and glaring haughtily about as he brushed the soot from his robes. "Let's get on with this no doubt fascinating meeting," he sneered as he swept past Lupin.  
  
A large number of the Order were presently crowded around the long kitchen table - and they lay where they had fallen, faces smashed -  
  
The bright summer's day shown through the windows and lit Nymphadora Tonk's hair a violent shade of scarlet, forcing Snape to turn away. She stood out against Kingsley Shacklebolt's dark, solid bulk.  
  
The Weaslys and their eldest sons were gathered around one end of the table, and as Snape exited the fireplace Mrs. Weasley stood and began bustling around, serving tea. Dumbledore nodded to Snape as if this weren't a huge waste of time, and gestured toward a chair. Ignoring the still smiling werewolf, he sat stiffly. Dumbledore began the meeting.  
  
"Now that we are all here..." Snape began tuning out the words. His thoughts returned to the vial and needle in the drawer of his desk - what if it had cracked when he threw it into the drawer? Damn that werewolf - why was it that whenever he had a chance for a moment's peace, someone would interrupt? His thoughts continued to circle through his head, and when a hand touched his shoulder, he flinched.  
  
"Is there a reason you feel the need to assault my shoulder?" he growled at McGonagall, who withdrew her hand and looked at him with infuriating calm.  
  
"We were wondering what your opinion on the matter was, Severus. After asking three times, we felt that more direct methods were necessary if we were to get a response out of you." Mad Eye Moody sniggered and Snape felt his face grow hot. Was I really that out of it?  
  
"I apologize that the scintillating conversation failed to hold my rapt attention," he sneered. "Now, would you be so kind as to repeat the question?" Moody snickered again, and Snape fought not to meet his gaze. McGonagall responded with an understanding that grated on his nerves.  
  
"Severus, would you please inform us of any new developments on your front?" Snape couldn't help an inward smile. They knew nothing about the movements of the enemy without him.  
  
"What I have to say is not for young ears attached to loose lips," he sneered - a dull thud, the splash of brains on a hard stone floor - He felt a small flash of triumph as the junior Order members were ushered out of the kitchen by Molly Weasley, leaving Tonks, Shacklebolt, Moody, Arthur Weasley, Lupin, and Dumbledore. All watching him. He paused to savor the moment.  
  
"Various attacks have been planned upon low profile Ministry officials who hold the bulk of the power." He cut a glance sideways at the Weasleys. "Fudge should be kept safe by his profound incompetence and general stupidity. However, I am not yet privy to the specifics of the plans, and any information I am given is likely to be false." He ignored the stage- whispered "So, why do we keep him around...?" from Moody. Fat lot of good you do, you toothless old Auror. "Despite the not inconsiderable backing of Malfoy, I am currently under intense scrutiny regarding my loyalty." -burning melting hot hot bonefire-  
  
Moody leant toward Lupin and whispered loudly, "I don't know anyone could mistake him for anything but a slimy Death Eater." The damned werewolf had to fight back a smile before Dumbledore and McGonnagall shot disapproving glares at the both of them. Snape could feel a muscle start to jump in his jaw.  
  
"If you two are done whispering like children," he hissed.  
  
Moody's electric blue mad eye swung around to rest on him and he felt the deep throb of his own dark magic glowing under its optic scrutiny. His left arm gave a sudden twitch and he broke off eye contact before it spasmed under the pain, which eased immediately when he looked away. Moody made a sound suspiciously like a giggle.  
  
"There is little else of relevance to report." -screaming screaming molten pain- He pushed back his chair with a scrape, favoring the table with a sneer. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"  
  
"Hold on, Snape." Moody's mangled face shoved itself back into his line of sight, and he barely suppressed a shiver. "How do we know that you're telling us everything? What proof can you give that you haven't...relapsed? Dark magic is a hard habit to break, or so I've heard..." Snape's hand involuntarily closed around the handle of his wand -the flow of power, the twitching screaming - and he felt a surge of longing for the liquid power of dark magic. No, the heroin will be enough, the heroin will be enough... don't think about dark magic.....  
  
"What's the matter, Snape? Dark Lord got your tongue?" Moody's clawed wooden leg thumped as he stood.  
  
"Stay back, old man, or I'll finish the job I started sixteen years ago," he whispered. "Give me a reason, and I swear I will." Without realizing it he had drawn his wand, and a surge of hatred for the twisted, faithless Auror before him crested on a wave of darkness -squirming bloody filth- forcing sparks to shoot from his wand's glowing tip.  
  
The Auror's wand was drawn as well, and his magical eye was fixed dead on Snape's heart.  
  
The first syllables of a curse were forming on Snape's lips like morning dew on a blade of grass and the crystalline taste of dark magic was pooling in his mouth when two strong, dark arms wrapped around his chest and lifted him from the ground, breaking the spell. The sweet taste turned bitter and Snape spat, struggling against his human bonds as a wrinkled, bony hand delicately plucked his wand from his numb grasp.  
  
"Severus, Alastor, I'm very disappointed in you both. I had thought that a common enemy would help you two reconcile your differences, but I see that I was wrong." The dead ache of his unfulfilled need for the feel of dark magic was pierced by the sharp lance of Dumbledore's disappointment and he slumped against the arms holding him.  
  
"Headmaster, I-"  
  
"Severus, I would like to speak with you later, in private." Uh oh. "Please return to Hogwarts: I'll join you shortly. You may release him, Kingsley." The arms surrounding Snape loosened, and he tried to brush out the wrinkles in his robes as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  
  
Finally satisfied, he grabbed his cloak from the hook by the fireplace, snagged a handful of floo powder, and called out "Hogwarts, Potions office." As he stepped into the fire, he could dimly hear Moody telling Dumbledore to keep his pet Death Eater on a tighter leash: Snape's subsequent flash of anger was so strong that as soon as he stepped into his office he grabbed a jar off one of the shelves and dashed it against the far wall.  
  
Desperate for a taste of what he had been denied back in the kitchen at Grimmauld place and despairing of any other release, no matter how fleeting, from the heavy weight of his life, he began frantically rummaging through his desk drawer.  
  
********* 


	2. Chapter 2

After Snape's figure disappeared into the flames, Moody turned to Dumbledore.  
  
"I don't understand why you trust that - that murderer, Albus," he growled, magical eye spinning, "but in the future keep your pet Death Eater on a tighter leash."  
  
Dumbledore gazed archly at the grizzled Auror and said blandly, "What I see here is a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black." He turned to the other Order members. "I think that this has been quite enough for now. I have several things to do while it is still light out, and I am sure you do as well. Good day, and good luck. Alastor, would you remain for a moment?"  
  
Remus Lupin slipped out of the kitchen and headed up the dark stairs toward his room. He didn't have anything in particular to do for an hour, and he was more than a little rattled by the confrontation between the ex-Auror and the ex-Death Eater. After pulling the dusty curtains away from his high windows, he pushed open the door to his tiny kitchen and filled his kettle.  
  
As his hands traveled the familiar path to a good pot of tea, he brooded over the day's events. Everything had, he supposed, begun at noon, when Dumbledore had shown up for the weekly meeting of the Order. He had asked Remus to "please inform Severus that his cheerful presence is required," and then left for a good hour.  
  
Filled with trepidation, Remus had flooed Snape in his dungeon office, where Dumbledore had said Snape would most likely be. As soon as the fireplace announced his presence, Snape had thrown something into the drawer of his desk.  
  
The usual snarkiness had followed, and Remus would have forgotten the incident if he had not smelled the desperate fear and longing rolling off of the black haired man and seen the sweat on Snape's sallow brow when he tripped and fell onto Remus while exiting the fireplace.  
  
That, combined with Snape's uncharacteristic sharpness toward McGonagall, whom he usually treated with respect, and the sudden escalation of hostility and loss of control in the face of Moody's usual digs and taunting, left Remus oddly nervous for the dark man's mental state.  
  
The teakettle interrupted his thoughts with a sharp whistle, and he pulled down a teacup and the box of tea.  
  
********* He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, clumsy with haste. He paused, though, when he ran the fingers of his right hand along the pale blue vein along the inside of his arm.  
  
Beneath the malignant rictus of the Dark Mark began an old line of scars tracing the path of blood. Regular and precise, they marched down to where the veins became too small to pierce accurately before giving up that blood lode and returning to the elbow and beginning again. The realization that he was losing control, relapsing, stopped him dead.  
  
You weak bastard, no control, you know what happens when you lose control. Bad things happen when you aren't in control.  
  
But this is so I don't lose control, so that I don't use an Unforgivable because my nerve snapped.  
  
Do you truly think that this will make any difference, that the desire and the memories will go away for long?  
  
No, but I'll make do with a few hours without them...  
  
He watched in sick anticipation as his hand delicately picked up the syringe and his left arm flexed. A tiny drop of liquid at the end of the needle caught the firelight, and he could see the milky narcotic swirling through the clear liquid.  
  
Are you really going to let a chemical control your life again?  
  
He felt every muscle in his body tense in anticipation and a sudden fear that the drop would fall and be lost to the uncaring desk blotter.  
  
Why not? It's just one more thing...  
  
The needle slipped painlessly into the soft skin of his inner forearm and pierced the exposed vein. The fluid entering his bloodstream chilled the flesh and he could feel it moving up his arm and toward his chest.  
  
Come on, come on, yes, yes, yesyesyes...  
  
It hit his brain with a sharp tingling thud at the base of his skull and the room lurched around him, darkening and then lightening. The throbbing hum grew heavier and heavier until it seemed to suck his whole body inwards before suddenly exploding with a tremendous rush that scattered his mind and obliterated his senses.  
  
*********  
  
Remus paced his small set of rooms in the old Black house. Something about Snape's scent had truly disturbed him, leaving him edgy and unnerved. His feet carried him along a circuit through the bedroom, parlor, the small kitchen, and back.  
  
Finally, disgusted with himself, he placed his hand on the worn brass knob of the door and pushed out into the third story corridor. The dark hall was musty despite Mrs. Weasley's dedicated dusting, and a sneeze forced its way out of Remus' sensitive nose. He strode across the corridor and down the creaking stairs and paused to grab his well-darned cloak. Once out the door and in the fresh air, his mood improved and he was able to focus. A fortunate occurrence, he thought wryly as he cast a scentless charm over himself, since I am about to go meet that Gloucester Pack leader. Once beyond the bounds of the unplottable charm, Remus apparated in a puff of summer dust.  
  
*********  
  
His eyes drifted closed as he savored the deep, warm well being and contentment that settled like a lead apron across his thoughts. He tried to lift a hand to push the hair off of his face, but he couldn't find where his arm ended and gave up trying. This's good shit...  
  
The world was much easier to deal with when his greatest concern was finding where his arm had left his hand. No Cruciatus, no mad, vindictive dark wizards espousing diseased, decadent ideals, no duplicity or fear or anxiety or stupid, imbecilic students bent on blowing themselves up where their deaths could be blamed on him. No ghosts or memories or misgivings.... He slowly slipped into a peaceful drugged sleep, mind blissfully empty and void of thought.  
  
*********  
  
The entrance to the pub was in Muggle London, and appeared to be a shabby, perpetually closed, curious anachronism to non-magical passers-by. To Remus, however, the Plow in the Stars was filled to bursting with unsavory characters gulping equally dubious liquor.  
  
He crossed the worn doorstep and put his hand on the door's greasy handle. The door itself was painted with what might once have been a dark, forest green, and Remus could almost make out the shape of a plow and nine stars traced in gilt on the warped wood and peeling paint. He pushed it open and was greeted by the deep throbbing bass notes of Muggle techno music.  
  
The interior was a muggy inferno of smoke, shouting, and the almost overpowering scent of sour beer. The noise, smell, darkness, and frenzied movement momentarily disoriented him, and he stumbled backwards into the rough edge of a bench. After a few moments he was able to see a method to the madness - a long bar slouched against the far wall, and heavy tables partnered with low benches radiated outward from it. Wizards and witches alike ate, gambled, danced, drank, and smoked, and a brawl appeared to have broken out in one corner.  
  
The moldy sawdust spread across the splintering floorboards, combined with the thick pall of smoke, was quickly making Remus nauseous but he understood that this was the perfect place to have a confidential conversation. If they could hear each other, that is.  
  
He looked around. The Gloucester pack leader had said that they would be meeting at the table farthest from the bar, and to look for someone with a blue bandanna. Well, there was the bar, there was the furthest corner.... He inched through the reeking, rumbling crush of humanity.  
  
*********  
  
Snape stood unsteadily, the base of his scull throbbing dully in time with the ache in his arm. He couldn't quite get his eyes to focus, and was about to collapse back down onto the couch when the knock came again.  
  
"Who the bloody hell is it and why are they still banging on my sodding door?!" he groaned as he finally did slump back down. "I'm not getting up so you might as well sod off," he mumbled into the couch.  
  
"Severus, it's me, Albus. May I have a few words?"  
  
Snape searched groggily for a reason for the Headmaster to call at his door. He hadn't slept through a class, had he? What day is it? A heavy mist obscured his thoughts and obstructed mental clarity. He had started falling back asleep when the knocking came again.  
  
"I would like to speak to you about this afternoon. I still have your wand, if you would care to retrieve it..." The Headmaster was starting to sound worried. Damnation.  
  
"I think I'm..." it took a moment for his fuzzy brain to come up with an excuse, "....coming down with something. Please leave me alone." His head ached and he thought longingly of the bottle of gin in his kitchen before beginning to drift away again.  
  
"Let me take you to see Poppy then, I'm sure she has something for you," cajoled the Headmaster's voice. Snape could barely take it any more.  
  
"I'm the bloody potions master at this school, I think I can make something myself! Sir." Maybe a little scotch, too, and some licorice...  
  
"Severus Snape, you are not allowed to not take care of yourself. Let me just come in, and -"  
  
Tha's right! Just force your way in, eh?" He didn't even worrying that his cockney accent was showing through. "Can' a man ever get some res' aroun' 'ere?!" he sobbed into the couch. This was just too much.  
  
"Alright, Severus. But I expect you at dinner in the staffroom." His words were lost to Snape who had slipped back into unconsciousness.  
  
*********  
  
Remus saw Dumbledore coming up from the dungeons and trotted up to intercept him.  
  
"Albus, I just finished talking to the Gloucester pack leader. She says that she'll consider the offer, and that she commends you for having hired me for a year." He paused to catch his breath and looked into the Headmaster's warm blue eyes. "What's wrong, Albus?" An icy fist grabbed his gut and his mind began playing over various scenarios, each worse than its predecessor. Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"Nothing serious, my friend. I was just down to speak with our ever cheerful Potions master, and he refused to either come out or let me in." He sighed and pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles higher on his long, crooked nose. "But that is not what you came all the way to Hogwarts to talk to me about. Please tell me, how was my old friend Raksha Mahu?" 


	3. Chapter 3

A sudden flash of frigid cold jolted Snape awake. He gritted his teeth through the flare and then stood. As he stumbled towards his small kitchen, he felt his bones begin a deep, throbbing burn in counterpoint to the icy wind that froze his muscles. Withdrawal was the only thing Snape had ever felt that came close to the agony of the Cruciatus curse, and he stumbled over to the cabinet to pull out a half empty bottle of gin. He slid to the floor, clumsily unscrewed the top, and drank straight from the bottle. After a few coughs, he took another swig, then another.  
  
Fifteen minutes or so later, he began to feel a touch better. The warmth of the alcohol had helped to banish the cold flashes and to dull the pain in his bones along with the ache in his head. He didn't feel all that bad, actually, he thought as he finished off the bottle. Whether or not he could still stand was another question entirely. He decided that it was quite comfortable enough on the cold tile floor of his kitchen.  
  
*********  
  
Remus Lupin was not looking forward to entering the dungeons to knock at the door of Snape's lair, especially if he was in a bad enough mood to deny Dumbledore access. Remus scanned the dark, moist stone walls for the shield that Dumbledore had said was the entrance to Snape's personal quarters. Why does he keep insisting on sending me to fetch Snape? he groused to himself as he turned left down an even gloomier corridor.  
  
It wasn't that Remus didn't respect Snape now, but that didn't mean that he necessarily enjoyed having to deal with him. Remus would be willing to give friendship a try, but he doubted that the snarky Slytherin would appreciate his efforts.  
  
Ahead he saw the green and silver shield that Dumbledore had described, with its embossed serpent glittering dully in the torchlight. Here goes nothing, he thought, and rapped three times on the shield, which boomed hollowly. When he received no answer, he tapped the cold metal with his wand and called out,  
  
"Severus! It's me, Remus. Dumbledore wants you to come to dinner." A moment later he heard a shuffling scrape and the shield swung out an inch or two, letting a large, hooked nose and two bleary black eyes poke out.  
  
"Wha' th' bloody 'ell do you wan'?" For a moment Remus was overpowered by the sour reek of gin, which combined with a slurred cockney accent left him wondering momentarily if he had knocked on the right door.  
  
"S-Severus?"  
  
"Oh, it's yeh... er, you." He scratched a stubbled cheek and blinked slowly. "Bugger off, I'm busy." Remus was shocked by Snape's appearance, and it suddenly hit him just how precarious Snape's position as a spy must really was. He immediately regretted having laughed at Moody's joke.  
  
"Snape, let me in. Albus'll have your hide if he catches you like this." He easily pulled the door open against Snape's protests and entered the small antechamber. A snap of his fingers and the room was filled with light. "Alright, Snape. What's going on?" Snape's sneer was ruined as he swayed on his feet and collapsed bonelessly onto the dark blue couch set in front of the cold fireplace.  
  
"An' why d'ye -you think there's anythin' goin' on?" He spoke slowly, as if he was concentrating on getting his words out clearly. Remus eyed Snape's wrinkled robes and bare feet and sighed.  
  
"Look, Severus, I don't want to pry and I know it's none of my business -" he ignored Snape's muttered "It bloody well isn't," and continued. "- but, Dumbledore will pitch a fit if you show up at dinner looking like that."  
  
He grabbed the other wizard's hand and hauled him off the couch. "Let's get you cleaned up and head to the staffroom - Dumbledore's planned an informal dinner for the Order so we can socialize or some such nonsense away from Grimmauld Place."  
  
*********  
  
Snape tried to jerk his hand free of the werewolf's grasp, but only succeeded in falling into him. "Let go 'a me! I don' need yer - your help, I can take care 'a me - mysel'."  
  
Remus shot him an incredulous stare. "Yes, I can see that. Come on, Severus, I have to get you to dinner, so the more you cooperate the easier this'll be." Snape felt a surge of helpless anger - why can't anyone ever just leave me alone?!  
  
The room continued to spin lazily as he staggered into the bathroom. Lupin turned on the faucet and without warning shoved Snape's head under the freezing cold stream. He struggled, but the werewolf was adamant.  
  
A minute or so later, the iron grip on the back of his neck eased and he jerked upward in a spray of water, shivering and soaking wet. He glared at Lupin from behind a thick curtain of dripping hair and hissed through chattering teeth, "Wha' th' bloody hell was tha' for?!"  
  
"To wake you up," came the werewolf's reply. "That, and you stink."  
  
"Says th' o-o-one who spends three days out a' th' month as a filthy, r-r- ravening b-beast!" He whipped the hair out of his face and spat at the werewolf. A sudden wave of dizziness caused him to lurch against the wall and he fell to his knees with a groan. Lupin steadied him over the toilet as he retched.  
  
"Alright, Severus, come on, we're gonna be late." He put a hand on Snape's shoulder, but Snape wrenched away and pushed himself to his feet.  
  
"Get out."  
  
"Sev-"  
  
"GET OUT!" Snape screamed hoarsely, pushing roughly at Lupin's chest. "What more do you have to do to h-h-humiliate me?! Leave me alone, I don' need your pator - patronizing, yeh filthy-"  
  
"Dumbledore said-"  
  
"OUT!"  
  
"I'll wait for you in the hall-"  
  
"Why would I give a damn about were you spend your time? Now bugger off!"  
  
*********  
  
Remus paced the dim, dank hallway in front of the green and silver shield as his mind tried to wrap around what had just occurred. Remus knew that Snape was under a lot of stress, but he had always seemed to be... well, in control. Seeing him like this shook the foundations of Remus' perceptions of the dark slytherin.  
  
Remus jumped, startled by the creak of the shield swinging out on its hinges, and turned to see Snape stepping out into the hallway. Snape had washed his face and changed into a fresh set of robes, although his hair was still wet and his gait unsteady. Remus fell into step beside him.  
  
"Why am I being escorted to the staffroom, Lupin?" Snape growled.  
  
"Because Dumbledore sent me to get you-"  
  
"-And a faithful werewolf always does what its master commands," Snape sneered. Remus sighed.  
  
"Do you realize how disagreeable you are sometimes?" Remus asked in exasperation.  
  
"If you truly feel that you must trail after me like a lost puppy, then at least have the decency to be silent," Snape responded.  
  
Remus cut a sideways glance at the other wizard and was mildly surprised by his appearance of normalcy. Well, as normal as Snape ever got. His voice had lost its cockney twang and he strode forward with almost his usual menace, and if Remus hadn't seen what he had not more than twenty minutes ago, he would not have noticed the subtle signs of well-hidden strain that he now saw in Snape.  
  
*********  
  
-Tearing flesh- He shook his head as he walked down the corridor flanked by the -snarling glittering wet feral bloodlust- werewolf. The spikes of pain were beginning to shoot through his bones again, and he was unable to suppress a shudder as a chill ran up his spine.  
  
Panic began to settle into his gut - what if he couldn't make it through this stupid dinner? What if Lupin told the others what he had seen? Whipping around, he turned to confront the werewolf.  
  
"You will tell no one what you saw," he hissed, pressing his fingertip into the werewolf's chest. Snape felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as his desire for the forbidden nectar of dark magic began to overwhelm him. Vitality coursed through his veins, a heady brew of -writhing, squirming, weak flesh- power. Power - he would show this stupid mongrel that he wasn't afraid, that he wouldn't let Lupin walk all over him, that he wasn't weak, if he could just find his wand -  
  
"Ah, Remus, Severus! On your way to dinner, I presume?" Dumbledore's jovial voice floated down the corridor and Snape spun on his heel, breathing harshly. Remus tried to still the racing of his own heart as he cast about for the trigger of Snape's wrath. Finding none, he turned towards Dumbledore's reassuring presence.  
  
"Let's head up to dinner, shall we? I'm sure you remember where the staffroom is located, Remus." Dumbledore continued talking lightheartedly as Remus tried to make sense of what was going on. He had known Dumbledore for too long to think that his sudden appearance had been a mere coincidence. Remus made a mental note to speak to the Headmaster after dinner.  
  
*********  
  
Snape felt his jaws snap on thin air as Dumbledore's voice rang through his head, and he felt a deep sense of loss as the power was wrenched out of his system. When he realized what had almost happened, he began to panic. Control, control, you're losing control...  
  
The marrow of his bones had turned to molten lead once again and he shivered from the ice in his veins. Snape latched on to the soothing murmur of Dumbledore's voice and followed it blindly until he found himself seated in a corner of the staffroom at the long oak table, surrounded by other Order members. The edges of the room blurred and darkened, then lightened again as he focused on not collapsing.  
********* 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Relief washed over Remus when they finally reached the comfortably worn staffroom with its motley of armchairs clustered around the center table. The table's dark wood was deeply scarred in several places and had certainly caught fire at one point, but managed the regal air of a veteran soldier proudly displaying war wounds.  
  
The core members of the Order were grouped around a plate of fruits and cheeses that graced the far end of the table. Remus had barely a moment to take in the scene before Tonks thrust her garishly colored head in his line of sight.  
  
"Remus, how ya doin' - oof!" She tripped and fell into him. "Sorry - anyway, how was the meeting with the Gloucester Pack leader?"  
  
"Ah, my dear, let's not speak of business tonight," Dumbledore gently intervened. "Everyone is here, so if we could all be seated, the meal can begin." With that he sat in a particularly battered chair. The rest of the Order soon followed suit, and golden plates and goblets sprouted food and drink.  
  
Remus glanced around and found Snape two chairs down on his left, face bone white. Snape ignored his plate of steaming stew and reached out a tapered hand to curl long fingers around his goblet. Even two seats away, Remus could see Snape's hands trembling. For the second time in as many minutes, however, a now pink and green polka dotted head suddenly dominated his view.  
  
"What's up, Lupin? Ya don't look so good." She followed his interrupted gaze and her eyes flashed green and silver when they lighted on the pale slytherin. "Ugh. He doesn't look so good either. As a matter of fact, he looks awful, even by his standards. What's eating him?"  
  
She turned away and a moment later began regailing the table with a story about the capture of one young Death Eater. "So he says, 'wait a minute, you're an Auror?!' So I said, 'Yeah. You wanna explain that little 'tattoo?'" Remus dutifully laughed along with the rest of the table.  
  
Remus sighed - he knew that Tonks would probably continue talking until the castle fell around their heads. Sirius would say - Sirius.  
  
Remus felt his throat closing with grief, and he took a shuddering breath. Sirius had found the young Auror absolutely hilarious. Remus could almost see Sirius, black hair tucked rakishly behind an ear, flirting outrageously and roaring with laughter at her jokes.  
  
A tear seeped past his control and slid haltingly down his cheek while Tonks continued to chatter. He felt fundamentally alone. No one else seemed to be burdened with the heavy grief that weighed on Remus, grinding down and pressing the essence of his sorrow out through his eyes.  
  
Remus glanced around at the rest of the largely oblivious table until his amber eyes were snared on a pair of onyx ones. Snape gazed steadily at him and sipped at his goblet. The wolf in him lifted his nose and scented the air currents wafting around the room: Snape's cup was filled with gin and...licorice?  
  
A sudden flash of empathy almost forced laughter past his teeth. What would Sirius say about him feeling a connection to slimy Snivellus? The thought of Sirius, with all of his desperation to escape his family and his burning, boiling hate compounded by the deep injustice of his imprisonment, turned the laughter in Remus' mouth into sour bile. He broke off eye contact with Snape.  
  
*********  
  
Snape found his goblet filled with gin and licorice oil. As usual, his thoughts and desires had dictated what appeared on his plate and in his cup, and he had a plate of the thick, glutinous mass that his mother had made through thick and thin and during both feast and famine. It showed up on his plate whenever he was under pressure: when Harry Potter entered his first year at Hogwarts, Snape had received it for two weeks straight.  
  
The frenetic chatter of the Order members grated on his already frayed nerves, and he hunkered down in his chair, letting his hair fall in a curtain before his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to be back down in his cool, peaceful, and above all quiet dungeons, and to feel the painless sting - they say the Killing Curse is painless - of the needle heralding relief from the shadow breathing wetly down his neck.  
  
He took another mouthful of gin and licorice, feeling the burning heat of the alcohol and the soothing coolness of the licorice slide down his throat. The room was beginning to sway again, but the licorice kept his stomach calm and the gin muffled the voices and stifled the memories that blew through his conscious.  
  
*********  
  
Remus forced himself to engage in the conversations of the other Order members. Bill Weasley was telling Dumbledore, Tonks, and Shacklebolt about his latest exploits with the goblins, and Mad-Eye Moody was laughing with Mundungus.  
  
"Take a look at our resident Death Eater, 'Dung. He looks like something's eating ::him,:: doesn't it?" He elbowed Mundungus before turning to confront Snape, who was a few seats down on the other side of the table. "Eaten any death recently, Snape?" Mundungus wheezed a laugh.  
  
"I dunno if'n 'e's bloody well eaten any death, but 'e sure looks like death warmed over t'me!" He chuckled around his pipe.  
  
"Well, he does appear to be trying to wash the taste of something out of his mouth," Moody growled. "Snape, take a word of advice - you can drown your sorrows, but you can't drown your sins!" Snape ignored the old Auror. Now that he had enough gin under his skin, Moody couldn't get under there, too, he mused fuzzily.  
  
Remus turned to try and engage Tonks in a conversation. She was staring at Snape, who looked like he was on the verge of passing out.  
  
When she heard Remus' voice, she turned back to him and twisted her face into a sneer as her nose lengthened and lank black hair fell into coal dark eyes. With an exaggerated wobble she dropped to the table and lay snoring into her cup, and Remus couldn't help but chuckle at the young witch's impression.  
  
She sat back up, her face cheery and her hair spiked purple, and bowed. "I knew I could get you to laugh!" She glanced back at Snape, who took another unsteady swig from his goblet, his hooded eyes unfocussed and his pallor accentuated by a flush across his high cheekbones and hawk like nose. "What's his problem, anyway? He usually doesn't drink that much. I'd ask if what's wrong, but knowing the sort of people he hangs around with..." She left the statement unfinished as dessert bloomed on their plates. "Ooh! Bread pudding!"  
  
*********  
  
The dinner wound down after dessert, and Order members with families began to head home. Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were conferring quietly in the overstuffed armchairs facing the crackling fire, its fitful light flickering over the deep craters and ravines of Moody's face and bronzing Shacklebolt's dark visage.  
  
At one end of the long table, Dumbledore and McGonagall had their heads together with Bill Weasley and appeared to be plotting something. At the other end, Snape was snoring softly, head pillowed on his arms and hair flopping over the pitted wood of the table.  
  
Remus sat back in his armchair, feeling vaguely lost. His thoughts began to stray towards Sirius, and in the quiet anonymity of the warm, dark staff room he let the tears fall silently. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Moody had returned to wherever it was he lurked when he wasn't at Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place, Shacklebolt had returned to his small home in wizarding London, and the Weasleys had retired to the Burrow. McGonagall and Dumbledore had taken over the vacated chairs in front of the fireplace, and McGonagall snored softly. Dumbledore was still awake, the flickering flames reflecting off of his silver rimmed spectacles. Remus quietly took the third chair, an overstuffed, blue leather monstrosity, and sat in silence for several moments before turning to the Headmaster.  
  
"Albus, we need to talk." He glanced towards Snape, who was still face down on the table, before continuing. "I think there's something wrong with Severus." He looked at Dumbledore, who continued to gaze into the heart of the fire. Remus was about to say something more when Dumbledore cleared his throat and sat back in his burgundy corduroy armchair.  
  
"I am happy that you can continue to feel compassion towards Severus, despite his undeniably irascible nature." Remus almost sighed at Dumbledore's usual circumlocution.  
  
"Albus, what can be done?"  
  
Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "Severus is a very difficult person to help, as I'm sure you have had occasion to notice."  
  
Remus was starting to feel that he wasn't going to get a straightforward answer from the old wizard. "In the hall, before you found us, he suddenly turned around and started reeking of dark magic. I thought he was going to curse me, but... well, one moment he was just walking, and the next..."  
  
He trailed off as a low moan reached them from the staff table, but Snape did not wake up. "And now he's passed out on the table. I've never seen him drink more than a glass of wine before, but when I went to get him in his rooms, he could barely stand. What are you playing at, letting him get into this state?" Remus worked to contain his anger. "What would have happened in the corridor if you hadn't shown up?"  
  
Dumbledore stirred, then slipped a length of dark oak from his sleeve. "Unless he has suddenly developed a talent for planned wandless magic, very little."  
  
Remus felt his anger drain away, and he was suddenly overcome by a bone deep weariness. Of ::course:: Dumbledore had everything under his thumb. He sat back in his armchair and closed his eyes. "Albus, I should have known you would have everything under control. But..."  
  
"Remus, I understand." Dumbledore balanced his cup on the arm of his chair. "Your concern is well placed. It shows true heart to be able to look outside of oneself to see the problems of others."  
  
"Albus, he's passed out drunk on the table! You'd have to be blind not to notice!" Remus hissed, mindful of the sleeping McGonagall.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "And yet you are the only person to express any form of concern." Remus felt the discussion leaving the topic of Snape and refocusing on himself. He almost sighed in frustration.  
  
"What about Severus? Are you just going to let him do this? What if he's summoned?"  
  
"I will do everything in my power to protect him from Voldemort. However, I can do little to protect him from himself." Dumbledore turned back to contemplate the shifting flames.  
  
"But he respects you. He - he would do almost anything for you," Remus pleaded, shoving down the thought of Snape telling the slytherins about Remus' lycanthropy. "If you told him to stop, he would."  
  
"Ah, Remus. The only people who can save one from oneself is their friends, and he has precious few of those."  
  
"He doesn't make it particularly easy to be his friend, though, does he?" Remus groused. "I've tried, but he's... really bitter about James and Sirius, and everything." He felt a flash of shame at the thought of himself turning a blind eye on his friends' childhood antics.  
  
"Severus carries many demons, and he bears them alone."  
  
The two sat in silence until the fire had almost died out. Remus dozed, and at some point Dumbledore woke McGonagall and the two left him asleep in the chair.  
  
*********  
  
Snape gradually woke in the dark staff room. The fire had been banked and glowed dully - light shining through bloody glass - and the room had the quiet peacefulness of early morning. He momentarily wondered why he was asleep in the staff room, but his foggy brain soon gave up trying to figure it out.  
  
With a groan he stretched and tried to stand without jarring his head. He had succeeded and was heading toward the door when a throat was cleared - stand and take your punishment like a pureblood wizard, boy - behind him. He ignored it and continued attempting to navigate the clutter of mismatched armchairs and reading tables.  
  
"Severus." It was that damnable werewolf again. Snape paused for a moment before continuing toward the door. "Snape, I would like to talk to you."  
  
Snape felt a flash of anger. Why was it always that beast? "I don't make a habit of cov-conversing with animals." He only stumbled slightly as he continued moving toward the door.  
  
Remus watched the haggard slytherin. "Severus, just sit down for a moment."  
  
Snape felt his face flush. "I believe I have spent enough time in your company for one day," he hissed. He bared his teeth in anger as the werewolf crossed his path and blocked the door to the staff room. "M-move out of my way, Lupin."  
  
Snape reached for his wand and found his sleeve empty, and a wave of fear set his head pounding again. "What did you do with my wand?!" he spat, steadying himself on a nearby chair back. Lupin stood calmly and Snape's fear was compounded by helplessness. Without his wand, his voice was his only - rolling, jaundiced eye and snapping, foaming jaws - defense.  
  
"Severus, let's sit down for a moment -"  
  
"Where is my wand?!" He felt something ::give:: behind his eyes and the fireplace suddenly roared with flames. His vision blurred and he almost cried with frustration - why did this have to happen now? His hands and feet were icy, his bones throbbed, and his fingers itched with repressed dark magic.  
  
A sudden mental image of the hated werewolf writhing beneath the Cruciatus curse tightened his stomach and chest with need, but he covered his head with his hands and tried to block it out. Can't go back... Need the heroin... losing control....  
  
"L-l-let me out!" He groaned, rubbing at his face in agony. "N-now! I - I need -" He shuddered and groaned again, screwing his eyes shut. "P- please..."  
  
*********  
  
Remus was struck dumb by Snape's plea. He had never heard the arrogant dark wizard ask please of anyone but Dumbledore.  
  
He had moved to intercept Snape on his way to the door and the pale man had reached for his wand. The metallic stench of gathering black magic had curdled in Remus' nose and then the fire had flared in the fireplace: Remus felt a jolt of real fear at the thought of the potential of uncontrolled magic.  
  
He had been about to draw his own wand when Snape had suddenly fallen to his knees and begged - begged! - to be released, as if he was trapped in a shrinking cage of molten steel. Remus spun around and pushed the staff room door open.  
  
"Sev - Snape! What do you need?!" He felt desperate - death and illness had always held a particular horror for Remus. The man huddled on the floor exhaled sharply and crumpled, as if the cage had collapsed around him and slathered him with fire.  
  
"I-i-in .... d-d-desk..."  
  
"In your office?"  
  
"...please..."  
  
Remus whipped around and took off for the dungeons.  
  
********* 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: From now on, I'll try to update at the end of each week (although finals are next week, so. I'll try.).  
  
Chapter Six  
  
The memory of Snape throwing something in his desk and the man's scent afterwards spurred Remus down into the dungeons and towards the potions office.  
  
Skidding around a corner, he saw the heavy timbers of the potions classroom door and the adjacent office. Dashing down the dim corridor, he caught himself on the scarred wood of the doorframe and yanked on the handle. He was surprised to find it swing open with a simple "Alohamora!" and stumbled through the door.  
  
He lit his wand and almost jumped back out of the small room with fright when hundreds of baleful eyes seemed to glare at him from the walls. It was a moment before Remus realized they were the eyes of the long dead and painstakingly well preserved creatures that filled the jars lining the walls of Snape's office and classroom.  
  
He gave a shaky laugh and paused for a moment to give his heart a chance to stop hammering before lighting the wall torches and moving to the desk. One drawer was ajar and Snape caught a faint whiff of...of...he wasn't sure what it was, but it made his nose tingle unpleasantly. He jerked the drawer open, and the smell intensified.  
  
The memory of Snape's unkempt figure answering Remus' knocking at his shield door and the strange reek below the heavy, burning smell of gin nudged at the back of his mind. He had smelled it before, he realized.  
  
In between two empty specimen jars and a battered copy of ::Moste Potente Potions:: was a glass syringe and a small, brown glass bottle half filled with an opaque liquid. The numbing, tingling scent of the two objects stirred the hairs on the back of his neck and an icy finger suddenly ran up his spine. Poison?  
  
The scent was dizzying and unpleasant, but didn't smell like any poison Remus had ever had the dubious pleasure of running across before. Maybe a Muggle medicine? He remembered from Muggle Studies that Muggles often injected healing potions, but he couldn't really see the Head of Slytherin House depending on Muggle medicine.  
  
But Snape needed this. As long as it isn't poison...  
  
He snatched the two small items out of the desk and, after extinguishing the torches, closed the door and raced for the staffroom.  
  
*********  
  
The pain faded in and out, but Snape remained excruciatingly conscious. His hands - tie 'em up higher, boy, yeh don' wan' it squirming loose afore we're done wi' it - and feet were numb, and the familiar burning in his bones had returned with a vengeance. Why did I take it again? - weak, weak, weak - Because it was worth it - weak - Shut the fuck up, you're dead now!  
  
He leaned against the side of an armchair, head back and eyes closed as he clenched his teeth and strained to carry the heavy pain. He, himself, felt almost immaterial, a hollow shell gutted by fire and ravaged by ice. He could feel hairline cracks forming, radiating outwards from his gut. His ears crackled and he flinched at the sound of the staffroom door swinging open.  
  
"Severus?" The werewolf's voice seemed overly loud. Snape felt a rush of sick relief.  
  
"D-did you g-g-get it...?" His voice rasped through his brittle throat.  
  
"Yeah. What is it?"  
  
"Give it to me....please..."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Snape held in the curses that raged through his head. It would be best to humor the werewolf. "R-Remus, please g-g-give it to me..." He gagged on the words.  
  
"Why do you want it?" Suspicion was creeping over Remus like fog over a fen. "What is it?"  
  
"God damn it, give it to me!" Snape suddenly shrieked, heaving himself to his feet. "It's mine!" A wave of dizziness almost toppled him back over, but he clung to the chair and rode it out.  
  
"Are you ill, Snape? Why do you want this so badly?" Remus' eyes narrowed.  
  
"Give it to me! Do you have any idea what I've been through?!" Snape panted harshly, limbs shaking with the effort of standing upright. "You - ! Remus, g-g-give it to me, please..."  
  
"Is this some kind of drug?" Remus asked incredulously. "You want me to give you some bloody drug?!"  
  
"Damn you! It's mine!" Remus could almost see Snape's eyes kindle and flare with an unnatural greed. "The voices.... the voices won't leave m-m-me alone!" Snape finally lost the battle against his failing body and crumpled to the floor. "Y-y-you always hated me, y-y-you and P-p-potter and Black. What th' bloody hell did I ever d-do to you?!"  
  
"Plenty!" Remus shouted. "You certainly made no effort to encourage friendship, did you?!" He was furious at Snape, furious with himself, and the fact that he hadn't gotten any sleep in the last twenty-four hours only served to compound the problem.  
  
"W-w-why...? Why don't y-you just give it to me? Please please make 'em stop...shut up, go away!" His thin face was hidden behind bony hands and a greasy curtain of hair. "M-my father u-used to d-do that, too..."  
  
A moan wrenched up and out of his throat, scraping the already raw cartilage. "It's n-not my fault, it's not... please, give it to me, please..." Broken sobs were muffled as he leaned against the side of the chair. "I can't keep...keep..."  
  
Remus stood, mind frantically working, but no thoughts coalesced with enough strength to force his body into action. "Snape?"  
  
He jumped back as Snape's body began to twitch, tremors running through his limbs. Snape moaned again and raised a clawed hand to his face before a sudden convulsion jerked his body and forced the breath from his lungs. A sharp scream, like a rabbit in a snare, split Remus ears. My god, he thought, Snape's dying. He's dying.  
  
"Okay, Snape, you win." Remus tossed the bottle and syringe, warmed by his hand, down at Snape's feet. He felt absolutely disgusted, not just at this revelation of Snape's dirty little secret, but at his own weakness at giving into Snape's pleas.  
  
He turned away when Snape's furtive hand snaked out and snatched the two items, and he left, shivers of revulsion dancing up and down his vertebrae, when he heard a groan of pleasure from the man on the floor. Remus had had enough. He headed for Dumbledore's tower.  
  
He wasn't far down the corridor when his anger faded into regret, and a mantle of sadness drifted across his shoulders.  
  
********* 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven  
  
"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?!" Remus almost snarled at McGonagall. A long suppressed desire to shout and scream suddenly boiled upward out of his subconscious and he fought the dangerous urge. The wolf stirred, then settled as he closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply.  
  
"Remus, tell me what's wrong," McGonagall pulled her tartan sleeping robes tighter against the chill damp of the stone hallway.  
  
Remus' head thrummed with warring emotion, but the events of the previous thirty minutes - was it only thirty minutes? - refused to coalesce into anything coherent.  
  
"Snape - he's lying on the floor of the staffroom, stoned out of his mind on some drug, and I gave it to him, because he looked like he was going to die, he started crying..." He paused for a breath. "I don't know what to do."  
  
McGonagall looked down at the worn flagstones beneath her slippered feet. "Remus..." She paused, as if weighing the words on her tongue. "Remus, Severus has made many errors in his life. He has also worked hard to rectify his mistakes." She paused again, and looked up. When she continued, her Scottish burr was thick and heavy. "He has fought long and hard to break his addiction to heroin."  
  
"The Muggle narcotic?" Remus asked softly. "How did he -"  
  
"Come upstairs and let's have some tea. I'm sure the Headmaster would not object to our borrowing his office for the discussion of such a delicate topic, hm?" She stepped brusquely up the corridor, heavy sleeping robes sweeping behind her, and stopped before the stone Gargoyle.  
  
Remus followed his former professor up the rotating staircase and paused behind her as she pressed a hand to the door and entered the warm, circular tower room. A glissando of delicate notes chimed against Remus' ears and he turned to see the phoenix stretching his tapered wings before folding his head back into the downy scarlet feathers of his breast.  
  
He turned back to see McGonagall start the fireplace with a swish of her wand before sitting in one of the overstuffed, brightly colored armchairs. Remus felt a faint relief that she hadn't sat behind the desk: Dumbledore's absence was conspicuous enough without her taking his place.  
  
"Where ::is:: Albus, anyway?" He asked absently. To his surprise, McGonagall answered his question. She must want to avoid the topic of Snape as long as possible too, he mused.  
  
"He's on Order business. I believe he's in Brazil, speaking with some of their native witches and wizards. They have powerful earth magic there, and almost all of the adults are Animagi. They would be a powerful force in the fight against Y - Lord Voldemort."  
  
She stirred her tea, which had materialized, along with a silver tray, teapot, cream, sugar, and cups, on a side table. Grateful for something to do with his hands, Remus grabbed a cup and held it close to his chest, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. "So, about Severus..."  
  
McGonagall took a few moments to contemplate the fire and Remus felt an odd sense of deja vu. She finally looked up and turned toward Remus. "Severus... is not a happy man. As you may recall, he was not a terribly happy child, either."  
  
She paused and examined her tea. "I believe he came across this particular method of anxiety relief during his time as a follower of - of Lord Voldemort." She sighed. "And now, he's relapsed. I ::told:: Albus the stress of acting as double agent was too much for the boy."  
  
Remus felt a deep regret settle over his bones. McGonagall leaned back into her red and violet armchair and sipped her tea. "A knut for your thoughts, Remus."  
  
"I..." He didn't really know what his thoughts were. "I... guess..." He put down his teacup with more force than necessary, flinching slightly as it rattled on its saucer. "Thinking about it makes me feel rather ill. For someone of such intelligence... such skill..."  
  
"And such pain. He comes off as a snarky bastard -" She laughed at Remus' surprised expression - "And he is a snarky bastard, no excuse - but he's not had it easy. His beginning was bad, and he never really had a chance to recover."  
  
"But why? Why heroin?"  
  
"Well, for one, it's relatively inexpensive and easy to find if you know where to look, and the Snapes are a notoriously poor Pureblood family. For any more on the 'why,' you'll have to ask him yourself."  
  
Remus digested this information, Snape's financial situation turning restlessly in his head. He had always seen Slytherins as rich, spoiled, bigoted brats. He picked up his teacup absently and spoke almost to himself. "I always figured that he was wealthy, with his attitude."  
  
Remus cringed inwardly at the memory of the small, dark haired Slytherin boy hurling invectives concerning Remus' poverty and casting aspersions on the origins of his family's meager income with a venom that, in retrospect, Remus saw was fueled by personal experience.  
  
The two sat in contemplative silence until Remus suddenly jumped to his feet. "Snape! I left him in the Staffroom!"  
  
*********  
  
The familiar soothing, warm contentment glowed through his every fiber, easing frayed nerves and sealing cracks and chinks in his carapace. In a disconnected way, appearing so weak in front of the werewolf appalled him, but the feelings were burned out by the intense, narcotic-induced pleasure.  
  
This is the way it should always be, he thought dreamily. He felt that, if he mustered the energy, he would be able to see his thoughts written in a scrawling hand across his eyelids. However, he felt absolutely no need to do so.  
  
*********  
  
"Shouldn't we do something? Take him to his quarters?" Remus paced with the frenetic energy of someone who was running on their last reserves of energy. McGonagall stood slowly, feeling her age in the slight twinge in her knees and back.  
  
"If you insist, Remus, but he'll be less touchy if he thinks that we 'didn't notice anything unusual' and so figured that he was fine on his own."  
  
She banished the tea tray with a flick of her wand before striding to the door. "Either way, let's head to the staffroom and see what the situation is." She descended the staircase, Remus in tow. "Thank goodness this is all happening over the summer holidays," She muttered as they headed down the corridor.  
  
*********  
  
Remus pushed open the door to the staffroom and held it open for McGonagall to precede him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting - possibly Snape in convulsions, blood splattered walls, or some other gruesome display of violence.  
  
He was not prepared to see Snape slumped peacefully in an armchair, feet stretched towards the remains of the fire. His face was completely slack, and he was so still that he would have appeared dead if it weren't for the hot flush of his cheeks.  
  
Remus stared. Snape's left sleeve had been pushed up past the elbow, and the Dark Mark leered in malignant triumph above the long lines of scars. Remus had never actually seen the Mark on someone's arm before, and had to look away, stomach churning. "Should we wake him up?"  
  
McGonagall bent and scooped up the vial, which had rolled against he side of another chair. The needle sat on the side table beside Snape. "Perhaps." Remus could see a tear etch its way down McGonagall's face, the warm, dim glow of the dying fire turning it into a spark of light. She sat down in the same chair she had occupied earlier, rolling the small vial between her hands.  
  
Remus dropped into the last chair and tried to calm his whirling thoughts and memories. He looked up to say something, then dropped his gaze again before finally addressing the floor.  
  
"D'you think that when... when Sirius tried to - to kill him, that that's when Snape went bad?" He paused for a breath. "Or maybe when, after the DADA OWL's, he and James ah, picked on him? I should have stood up to them. Harry said -"  
  
"Remus, stop that pointless hypothesizing. It'll do no good. Believe me." McGonagall's voice was rough and she cleared her throat. "I personally don't think anyone ever suddenly 'turns bad.' People are complicated creatures, and their motives are often a convoluted tangle of associations and emotions. I'm not saying that his experiences as a student didn't have an impact, but, as I said, his beginning was bad and he never really had a chance to recover."  
  
"Harry didn't exactly have -" Remus tried, but McGonagall cut him off.  
  
"Harry is a different person, and his situation is different. Remember that. I would speculate that part of Severus' extreme dislike of the boy stems from his jealousy that Harry was, for the most part, able to overcome his upbringing.  
  
"Harry, however, knew that he had been loved and wanted by someone, while Severus knew that his parents had married to avoid embarrassment. His father never let him forget it." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.  
  
"How do you know all this?" Remus asked, finally looking up from the carpet.  
  
"A teacher always makes it her duty to know about her students, even those not in her own House," She responded with finality.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Remus stretched and forced his exhausted mind back into action before turning to McGonagall. "Well, I'll take him back to his rooms, then..." He rubbed at sleep-rimmed eyes and stifled another yawn.  
  
They both stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts, before Remus finally pulled out his wand.  
  
"Mobilicorpus!" Snape's body rose bonelessly from the chair, his sleeve sliding back down to cover his pale arm and hide the baleful death's head glare. Remus, emotions and thoughts scraped raw by exhaustion and stress, felt his throat close and his eyes blur with tears.  
  
He had never particularly liked Snape, but... he looked so lifeless, dangling in the air. The memory of the fateful night in the Shrieking Shack two years ago left his hand shaking, but a few deep breaths steadied his nerves. He bid farewell to McGonagall.  
  
It was a long, dreary trudge back down to the dungeons, and standing in front of the shield guarding Snape's private quarters Remus realized that he didn't know the password. With an almost audible crack, his nerve snapped and he kicked the door, then again and again.  
  
The hollow bangs echoed down the dark corridors, and Remus added his fists to the assault. The wolf awoke, circled, and began pacing restlessly in the back of Remus subconscious, and he slid to the floor, back against the still reverberating metal of Snape's door.  
  
He buried his head in his arms and sat, sobs wrenching through his stiff shoulders and shivering from the damp cold of the dungeons. He soon drifted into an uneasy sleep, Snape slumped against the wall beside him.  
  
********* 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. My computer erased the file about four times, and I had to start from scratch each time.. Plus finals week. Anyway, here it is.  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Light faded in and out between drifts of heavy black fog, the flickering accompanied by a deep, reverberating thump. Cold. He was cold. And stiff. Stone. He was lying on stone.  
  
A movement of his head dulled the light and the muffled booming in his skull became almost painfully loud. His eyelids slid grittily down over his eyes and he fought to swallow past a dry, swollen tongue.  
  
::Why am I here?::  
  
grinding his teeth, he pushed himself up with shaking arms. Each movement of his muscles pulled and stretched the parched fiber of his limbs, and the surroundings seemed to fall away as his mind darkened and he almost passed out.  
  
The pounding was unbearable, and he brought shaky hands up to grip his skull. His hands felt strangely weightless, as if they would float away if they loosened their grip on his hair.  
  
A wet, cold darkness pressed in on him, but he huddled in a cocoon of dry, burning heat. The thick mist rolled back over his eyes as a weak, mewling whine wormed its way up his throat and between clenched teeth.  
  
::I made that sound?::  
  
He startled badly when something landed on his shoulder. A deep moan bubbled up from his gut as he slid away against the wall, its cool, rough stone scraping roughly against feverish skin.  
  
"Snape?" The sound was almost drowned out by the pulsing rumble in his head.  
  
::Me?::  
  
"Snape, can you hear me?" A familiar voice, but... thick, heavy, warm, numb fog...  
  
*********  
  
Remus drifted uneasily in and out of an uncomfortable doze. The hard, cold stone walls of the dungeon corridor leached every bit of warmth out of his bones and confused his dreams.  
  
He had surfaced briefly from his hazy sleep and was trying to shift into a more comfortable position when a faint sound hooked his ears. His left leg was asleep below the knee, but he managed to sit up, rubbing at his temples with cold numbed fingers and blinking in the dim dungeon light. The single torch guttered threateningly, tossing shadows against walls glistening with condensation.  
  
He tried to shake off a feeling of disorientation. He knew there was a reason he was asleep on the floor of a dungeon corridor. The faint sound came again, and his ears turned it into the rasping of all unnamed things that shuffle through the dark. Despite himself, a sliver of ice slid wetly down his spine.  
  
Memories were beginning to return. Snape - he had come down here to bring Snape back to his rooms, because. because he was under the influence of some narcotic. Remus felt a shiver of disgust frizzle through his nerves and a hot, heavy weight of tangled emotion sink into his stomach.  
  
Where was Snape? It was too much to hope that he had simply woken up and gone into his rooms, since Remus had fallen asleep leaning back against the solid metal of the shield guarding Snape's quarters...  
  
There again. The sound.  
  
Remus scanned up and down the narrow corridor, but could see nothing except a heavy blackness beyond the dubious light of the failing torch. He pushed himself to his feet, leg still unsteady but able to support his weight, and inched along the wall. The condensation seeping from the stone soon left the hand he trailed along the wall wet.  
  
At the wavering edge of the light cast by the dying torch, he paused and strained to puncture the darkness with his eyes. The steady movement of air through the dungeons stirred the hair on the back of his neck, and he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that it carried his scent to whatever awaited him.  
  
It's just Snape, for Merlin's sake. Go wake him up and make him give you the password to his rooms.  
  
Steeling himself, he crossed the almost tangible border between dark and light; almost immediately his reaching hand landed on what felt like a bony shoulder wrapped in heavy linen. He almost jumped back in surprise when it jerked violently under his hand and a low moan grated in his ear.  
  
"Snape?"  
  
There was a scraping, scratching sound as Snape dragged himself away from Remus. His movements released a swirl of scent and Remus inhaled deeply. Definitely Snape. Remus caught the high, buzzing scent of fever overlaying Snape's personal smell.  
  
"Snape? Can you hear me?" No response. Where in all the hells was Dumbledore when you needed him? If only it wasn't so dark -  
  
He felt the sudden, ridiculous urge to laugh. He was a wizard, for Merlin's sake - he had a wand. That's what sleeping on some freezing floor deep in the dungeons will do for you, he groused at himself. At least he hadn't caught a cold.  
  
Before he could even lift his wand, though, the corridor filled with the warm light of fresh torches. He spun around. There, just in front of Snape's door, stood Dumbledore.  
  
********* Something cool slid across his forehead, wiping the grit out of his eyes. He tried to raise a hand to brush the coldness away, but his hand was restrained. Fear released a sudden jolt of adrenaline and he sat bolt upright, eyes wide and breath coming in harsh gasps.  
  
"Severus." The Headmaster's voice. Snape couldn't see much beyond vague blurs of light and dark, and he blinked, trying to focus. He had always had decent eyesight, except after he had...  
  
Oh, no. No, no, no.  
  
"I'm afraid so, my boy." Snape could feel Dumbledore poking around in his mind, and was swept away on a torrent of horrified fear - his mind was open.  
  
"G-g-get out!" He grabbed at his hair with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and curling inward. "Don't - no -"  
  
"Why did you do it again, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice was infinitely sad, but Snape felt the probing in his head stop, leaving him alone in his mind with a throbbing headache.  
  
So. Dumbledore knew about his failure. Snape felt a cringing, gnawing desire to ignore that fact.  
  
"Do what again?" He managed to control his voice. Uncurling, he forced himself to sit upright on... his couch? Only his couch smelled like that. He turned around and buried his nose in the worn blue cushion, inhaling the familiar scent of dust and wood smoke. It had been his mother's, before...  
  
A hand on his shoulder sent a shock of surprise through his frame, and in spite of himself he gasped, "Who's there?!"  
  
"Severus, it's me, Albus." Snape felt the blood rise to his face. He was out of it enough that he was still making a fool of himself, but sober enough to realize it. His stomach squirmed.  
  
"Go 'way."  
  
"That's certainly not up to your usual standards, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Severus, I'm going to leave you to sleep it off. We shall discuss this further at a later time." Snape's insides shriveled with shame at the disappointment in Dumbledore's voice. .  
  
Snape felt rather than heard Dumbledore leave, but the tightness in his gut remained. He collapsed backward, lying full length along the old blue couch. A deep horror was squeezing a band around his already throbbing head, and he resisted the urge to scream as he again buried his face in the worn blue upholstery.  
  
His mind was hazy and confused, and he had no recollection of either purchasing or injecting the drug. The low burning beginning in his bones and the chill edging in on his limbs, though, told him all that his foggy memories couldn't.  
  
He levered himself up off of the couch, old, half forgotten habits taking over and prompting his limbs when his brain failed to react to the situation. He dragged himself to his tiny kitchen, found the liquor cabinet by touch, yanked it open, and fumbled blindly inside for the gin bottle.  
  
*********  
  
Remus staggered up to his rooms at Grimmauld Place, eyes blurred with exhaustion, and collapsed onto his bed. Too tired to even think about Dumbledore's sudden entrance and the skillful way he had herded Remus out of the dungeons and back to the Black mansion, he shut his eyes against the early morning light and fell fast asleep  
  
*********  
  
The tingling, cloying scent of warm honey prickled his nose and he grunted, screwing his eyes shut against dazzling sunlight.  
  
"Ah, Remus, I was wondering when you would awake. I took the liberty of ordering us some tea: I hope you don't mind too terribly." It was Dumbledore, sounding overly cheerful. Always a bad sign.  
  
Remus stretched tight muscles and crammed his head underneath his pillow. He had a hollow pit in his chest, an almost hunger for more sleep. "Wha' time's it?" The pillow muffled Remus' voice, but Dumbledore responded brightly nonetheless.  
  
"It is currently ten o'clock, I believe. I've spoken with Raksha Mahu, and she'll be expecting you tomorrow instead of today. Minerva tells me you've had a long night."  
  
"Oh." Remus' brain tended to be a little sluggish for a while after he woke up, and he was trying to remember why he had had a 'late night.' Climbing out from under his pillow, he ran a hand through his graying hair and blinked slowly at he Headmaster. "Oh."  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the silver tea service, stirring the tea in the teapot with a delicate porcelain spoon. His plum robes seemed to hang on his ancient frame, and the hand stirring the tea trembled slightly. "Thank you for watching Severus, Remus."  
  
Remus, whose brain had finally shifted into gear, felt frustrated anger bubble past his exhaustion-weakened control. "How could you. did you know about this?!" He paused and forced himself to take a calming breath. "I'm sorry, Albus, I'm not at my best in the morning."  
  
"I understand, Remus. It's been a trying couple of weeks since the summer holidays began, hasn't it? And I had always thought that holidays were for relaxation and leisure." A faint smile tugged at the old wizard's face.  
  
Remus reached for the teapot and poured tea into two of the eggshell- thin bone china cups. "So... you knew about this." Remus didn't really know why he was surprised. Dumbledore knew everything. "What..." He glanced away from the tea, turning his cup absently in his hands, trying to sort out his thoughts. "What are we going to do?"  
  
"That is the question, isn't it?" Dumbledore sipped at his tea, the steam fogging his half moon glasses. "To put it baldly, Severus is under incredible stress, and like most of us, he is falling back on old habits and ways of dealing with it."  
  
Remus had an unsettling image of a young Snape sneaking out of the Slytherin dorms and shooting up on heroin in the boy's washroom. He cleared his throat. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
"Too long." Dumbledore put down his cup. "After Voldemort fell from power and Severus' active service as a spy was no longer required, he managed to break his dependence on heroin with only a few relapses. That was fourteen years ago."  
  
"So you're saying that going back to Voldemort is the cause of all this?" Remus tried. He felt strangely disconnected, as if he were dreaming it all up, a nightmare caused by anxiety and exhaustion. This can't really be happening, he thought.  
  
"I wish it were that simple." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, face grave. "Severus is a very lonely person -"  
  
"That doesn't excuse his, his drug use!" Remus surprised himself with his own outburst, but found that he couldn't stop. "You say 'he's so lonely,' but he alienates himself. He can barely say a full sentence without saying something nasty to someone, without belittling them."  
  
Remus found himself pacing his small room waving his arms, but he couldn't hold it in. "He kicked me out of Hogwarts! He told his students about me! I never did anything to him, but he ::still:: told them."  
  
The bitterness churning through his chest left him shaky. He hadn't realized how much Snape's betrayal had meant to him until he had said it out loud. "That - that hurt a lot. I - and now this." He slumped back down into his chair, passing a trembling hand over his exhausted face. "Will I ever be able to just live peacefully?" A faint guilt began to gather in his throat and he chuckled mirthlessly. "That sounded truly self centered, didn't it?"  
  
"I do not think so, Remus. You often care far more for others than for yourself, and we all need to look after ourselves as well as after our friends." The words were soft and slightly crinkled, like old, dried parchment.  
  
Dumbledore didn't seem at all surprised by Remus' outburst, and Remus felt a soothing relief cool his guilt as the ancient wizard regarded him with wize old eyes. Remus had just begun to relax when Dumbledore spoke again.  
  
"However, my old friend, I fear that I must ask for your help yet again. Severus is in an extremely dangerous, yet critical, position, and we desperately need him to remain functional. His addiction runs deep in both his body and mind, and as long as the two share a space, true healing is nearly impossible."  
  
Remus was stunned. "Are you asking me to do what I think you're asking me to do?!" 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine  
  
Snape sat numbly at the small, scarred table in his tiny kitchen. Melancholy spiked with deep anger and fear swirled around him but did not pass through the deadening alcohol haze that swamped his mind. He could sense them lurking, but heard only their echoes.  
  
::... why me?... why didn't I ever get a chance?... I did, from Dumbledore... but now you've fucked up royally *again*... you are sickening...::  
  
::...I used to want to be someone... to be respected... now I just want it all to end. I thought I'd gotten away from that sodding needle... should have known I was too weak, weak...::  
  
"Sharrup."  
  
A shaking hand raised the bottle to his lips and sloshed stinging gin into his mouth and down his chin. The fumes burned at the membranes of his nose and the bottle slipped from numb fingers to smash loudly on the stone floor.  
  
:: you pathetic drunk - just like your father...::  
  
A heavy, unbearable wave of grief crushed him and he lowered his head to the table, a high keening escaping his throat as tears finally came. He sobbed senselessly, a crude outpouring of anguish without name or single origin.  
  
As the tide began to recede, he followed it into unconsciousness.  
  
*********  
  
Remus straightened his shabby robes, inexplicably nervous at the thought of confronting Snape with Dumbledore's proposition. A trickle of unease slid into his stomach and pooled there, leaving his gut twitching on pins of anxiety.  
  
It was easy in the warm, bright summer light to tell himself that his tired mind had greatly exaggerated the events of the day before, but once he was back down in the perpetual gloom of the dungeons it seemed all too real. A quiver of repulsion at the memory of Snape's broken desperation shivered across his shoulders.  
  
He raised a hand and knocked on the cold metal of the Slytherin shield. To his surprise, the door swung open slightly.  
  
It was dark inside. Does he ever even light a bloody candle?  
  
Remus slowly pulled the shield open wide enough for him to squeeze through. His wand cast enough light for him to see that he was in Snape's sitting room - a scruffy, faded blue couch facing the dead fireplace was planted firmly on a threadbare carpet of undeterminable color. The two rickety end tables were piled high with books from the overflowing shelves lining the otherwise bare stone walls.  
  
"Lux domus," Remus whispered, and the small room was lit by a warm, suffuse light. Stepping lightly, Remus moved through the sitting room and toward the dark entranceway of Snape's tiny kitchen.  
  
The stringent smell of hard liquor stung his nose, and a worm of unease slithered through his chest. He jumped when something crunched underfoot. Glass? He again cast the light charm, this time on the kitchen.  
  
Snape lay face down on the table, surrounded by the shattered remains of a bottle. Remus stood perfectly still for a moment as unease grew into disgust.  
  
How could Snape just... just do this?  
  
You're still surprised, after what happened in the staffroom the night before last?  
  
He... he's not the kid I went to school with, is he...  
  
He's not who I thought he was.  
  
Mind reeling, Remus staggered back into the sitting room and sat heavily on the couch.  
  
He's not who I thought he was.  
  
The last few days finally coalesced in Remus' head, a heavy lump of densely tangled emotions and associations.  
  
"Why the bloody hell is this going on?!" What started as a whisper rose to a shout and he sprang off the couch. He noticed detachedly that his hands were shaking, that his legs seemed about to spasm beneath him.  
  
A huge, heavy pressure built up inside him as he stood there, trembling; his vision began to blur with the pain in his head and he sank slowly down to the worn old rug, eaten up by emotion.  
  
"Sirius - you're dead. You were never meant to die - you never had a chance. You never had a chance!" Remus sobbed into his hands. "Harry loved you so much - loves you so much... he never had a chance, either... you meant so much to him, you know."  
  
He sniffed, rubbing at his wet face with a sleeve. "And here I am, sobbing on the floor of Snape's quarters. What a wreck, eh?" He sat back, leaning against the base of the old couch, and took several deep breaths.  
  
He took a moment to collect himself before pushing off of the couch and standing. The shaking in his hands and knees had abated but left his limbs weak and heavy. He rubbed at his face again before returning to the kitchen.  
  
Glass crunched underfoot as he strode back to the tiny kitchen and put a hand on Snape's shoulder. He was unnerved by the sudden thought that Snape was dead, the form before him merely a few old bones transfigured and wrapped in a linen shroud.  
  
Remus took an involuntary step back as the bones beneath his hands shifted. Snape groaned softly and mumbled something unintelligible before falling silent again. Remus tried to still the hammering of his heart and grasped Snape's shoulder more firmly.  
  
"Snape, it's me, Remus. We have to talk about something." Remus shook Snape's shoulder.  
  
"Mmm," Snape mumbled into the table. Remus exhaled in frustration.  
  
"Snape, I'm going to levitate you, so you'd better not be sick in the next two minutes," Remus growled before flicking his wand at Snape's limp form. His head lolled alarmingly, eyes rolled back, and Remus had the eerie impression that Snape's neck was broken. Just put him in bed, he chided himself. He's not... hurt.  
  
Remus moved quickly through the small sitting room and pushed open the remaining door. His wand previously engaged, he had to grope his way through the darkness until he banged his knee on what felt suspiciously like a bed frame. After feeling out its dimensions, Remus lowered Snape down, freeing his wand to cast the lux domus charm.  
  
The room was, if anything, smaller than the other two. There was just enough room for the narrow, highset bed, a bed table, and a shelf of well thumbed books. Snape was sprawled untidily across the bluish green bed covers where Remus had put him.  
  
The clock on the wall said three o'clock. Suddenly immensely tired, Remus stumbled back into the sitting room and sat back down on the old couch. His last thought before sleep claimed him was, 'I'll just wait for him to wake up...'  
  
*********  
  
He awoke to a heavy pounding in his head. A deep, powerful undercurrent of desire roared dully in the back of his mind and he felt the world tilt and fall out from beneath his feet. ::I took it again.::  
  
He shoved himself up on weak, shaking arms, biting down on a moan as the movement crushed his skull. Gripping the bed frame with trembling hands, he managed to stand upright. He felt stretched, as if his head were trying to float away from his leaden feet. The dimly lit room swayed slightly around him.  
  
He staggered to the little stone bathroom and found the faucet by touch. The cold stream of water against his hands helped him focus his nebulous thoughts and he splashed it across his face until his hands and cheeks were numb.  
  
*********  
  
Remus was pulled out of his doze by the sound of Hogwart's ancient pipes groaning to life. He pushed himself off of the couch and stood, stretching cramped muscles. He could see Snape in the bathroom, splashing water on his face.  
  
"Snape!"  
  
Snape jerked upright, face and hands dripping. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell are ye doin' in 'ere?!" Remus saw Snape wince at the sound of his voice. With pronounced concentration, he repeated more quietly, "What the bloody hell are you doing here, werewolf?!"  
  
"Snape, we have to talk." Remus watched bemusedly as Snape's face paled.  
  
*********  
  
::He knows.:: Snape felt the blood slide dizzyingly from his head and he gripped the sink to keep from fainting. His stomach constricted painfully and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of the damage that Lupin could do with that knowledge. His vision pulsed with the speeding of his heart and his skull began to split again with the pressure.  
  
"You... you know." His voice scraped through his throat and stumbled past his swollen tongue.  
  
*********  
  
Remus nodded slowly, his thoughts laced with the empty coldness of Snape's betrayal two years ago, and he suppressed a guilty thrill at the feeling of having the tables turned. ::I have the blackmail power, now,:: he thought. It felt strange to be the one in the position of control - now Snape was afraid of him.  
  
He shook his head at himself, brutally crushing the thought with the realization of just how pathetic retribution would be - the Werewolf versus the Death Eater drug addict. He almost laughed out loud.  
  
From deep in his mind, a bubble of thought floated to the surface of his consciousness, popping quietly into his mind. ::Sirius would have...:: No. Sirius is gone. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache building up against the back of his skull.  
  
He looked back up at Snape. Merlin, he looks bad, Remus mused absently as he struggled to smother the thoughts surging through his head.  
  
Snape's normally spare face was gaunt, his sharp cheekbones jutting from the roughly stubbled planes of his face. The thinness accentuated his already large nose, which thrust out from beneath his shadowed brow.  
  
Black eyes surveyed him dully from the depths of their sockets, and his colorless lips were slightly parted over snag teeth. He raised one trembling hand to push a lank, wet strand of black hair out of his eyes.  
  
Suddenly he lurched to one side, bending over and hacking out copious amounts of a thick acidic slime. The sour stench of it pulled Remus away from his internal struggle.  
  
"Severus! Severus, I won't tell anyone. I promise."  
  
"Th-the more f-f-fool you," Snape hissed from where he kneeled. "G-go away, L-l-lupin," he tried to growl, but it came out a rasp.  
  
Remus felt a flare of frustrated anger. "Not this time, Snape. We have to talk."  
  
"What th' 'ell d'we 'ave to bloody talk about?!" Snape wiped a rope of saliva from his lips with his sleeve before heaving dryly. Remus waited for the fit to stop before continuing.  
  
"You can't keep doing this, Severus - you're killing yourself. Dumbledore - the Order - we need you to stop. You can't - this has to stop."  
  
The hot, burning shame squirmed through the desolate emptiness that was left of his hope. He took the pain and lashed out at the hated figure of the werewolf. His fist connected weakly with Lupin's jaw, and he felt the other man's hands grasp his wrists and hold them down at his sides.  
  
"Snape, this is going to stop and it's going to stop now." Lupin growled low in his throat. "Dumbledore has an idea, and I have to agree with him. You will be killed if you go to V-Voldemort like this and you'll take the Order down with you. He'll pry every last Order secret from your drug- addled brain and the Order will be destroyed. Dumbledore wants to perform the Versamentus curse on us." He paused for breath. "I've agreed. And you are going to agree too, Snape, because it means all of our lives."  
  
Snape jerked his wrists from the werewolf's grip. "And what about me? D'ye think I'm going t' let ye get me killed? Ye must be mad," he spat. "There's no way in all the hells that ye could pull tha' off wi' the Dark Lord." He stood shakily. "Ye wouldn' survive th' week."  
  
"Oh no?" Remus countered, heat filling him. "Do you think you are the only one who has had to suffer? Three nights a month, for most of my life, I've ripped myself to shreds as a ravenous beast -"  
  
"That's not th' same a' stayin' sane under th' bloody Cruciatus. Tha's not blocking one o' th' most bloody powerful wizards o' all time from yer soddin' mind!" Snape was shaking, whether from rage or withdrawal he didn't know. "Ye don' fuckin' know!"  
  
His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Can ye cast dark magic, Lupin? Could ye cast an Unforgivable on a stranger? D'ye know what et's like to have used black magic, d'ye know 'ow et changes a person? D'ye 'ave th' hate? Th' desire to hurt? No." He turned contemptuously away. "Ye couldn' pull it off, Lupin, even if I let ye try."  
  
"You are killing yourself, Severus. Teach me to be you - I'm not going to let you do this anymore." Remus was vaguely surprised to feel tears pricking at his eyes. A deep, desperate need to keep Snape alive gripped his chest.  
  
"Who the bloody hell put YOU in charge of me life?!" Snape screamed hoarsely. "Get the hell out o' here, Werewolf!" He almost collapsed with the force of his fury: the pressure built up within him sizzled across his shoulders and down his arms, sparking at his fingertips.  
  
He wanted the death of the hated beast before him, the person who was trying to remove his only purpose. He barely registered his bookcase collapsing, or Lupin's apprehensive face.  
  
"All right, Snape. We'll talk about this later, when your faculties are under your control." Remus sighed as he got up to leave. He had just a few minutes to get beyond the edge of Hogwart's apparating boundaries and head to the Plow and Stars. Raksha Mahu would not be happy if he was late after postponing their meeting; he'd have to talk to Dumbledore that evening.  
  
"An' stay out ya mangy werewolf!" rang out behind him as he passed through the shield, frustration corroding his patience.  
  
*********  
  
"Fizzing wizbees," Remus growled at the stone gargoyle before stepping onto the moving staircase. His lengthy, heated discussion with the Gloucester Pack Leader combined with the stifling oppressiveness of the crowded pub and added to the aches caused by the coming full moon combined to give him a splitting headache. "Thank Merlin for Snape's paranoia," he muttered. It was extremely fortunate that Snape always left a large supply of the Wolfsbane Potion at Grimmauld Place, seeing as Remus wouldn't trust him at the moment with even a simple Pepper-Up Potion.  
  
The stairs carried him swiftly and smoothly up through his musings and to the landing before the Headmaster's door. He was unsurprised when the door to the Headmaster's office swung silently open.  
  
"Albus -" He looked in to find the round tower room warmly by the setting summer sun. An open window let in the breezes scented sweetly by the sighing forest. Dumbledore sat at his desk, silver framed spectacles glinting in the fading light.  
  
"He has been Summoned, Remus."  
  
********* 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
  
He twitched his cloak about him and settled gracefully to his knees.  
  
"My Lord," he intoned, reaching forward with one manicured hand to touch the deep red robes to his masked lips.  
  
"Rise, Lucius." The Dark Lord's voice was high and thin, and Malfoy felt a shiver of anticipatory pain at the sound of distain in his Master's voice. He tried to control his anxiety as he rose and moved backwards a respectable ten steps to join the silent circle of black robed figures.  
  
"You failed to obtain the prophecy, Lucius. You led a group of my most loyal Death Eaters straight into the hands of the Ministry."  
  
"My Lord -"  
  
"Silence! Your pathetic excuses disgust me. I believe I will allow Bellatrix to exercise her... frustrations... on you. Do not worry, my pet - you are much more valuable to me sane." He raised one long, skeletal hand and beckoned towards another masked figure.  
  
With a thrill of fear, Malfoy recognized the outline of Bellatrix Lestrange. A black fury rolled off her form in waves, and he had to fight to keep himself steady. A Malfoy never showed fear.  
  
"Do avoid his face and hands, Bella," the Dark Lord sneered, and a ripple of laughter swirled through the black circle of Death Eaters. The circle shifted nervily inward, anticipation heavy in the air. Lestrange was about to raise her wand when, with a thump, another figure apparated at the feet of the Dark Lord.  
  
Malfoy forced his eyes off of Bellatrix and turned his gaze to the Dark Lord's face. He was livid, red eyes narrowed and breath fluttering hard and fast through slitted nostrils. When he spoke, his voice was harsh and sibilant.  
  
"Sssseverussss..." He brought his boot hard against the side of the prone figure's head. The only response was a moan of quiet laughter. Malfoy sneered beneath his mask - it looked as if dear old Severus had fallen back on old habits.  
  
The Dark Lord flicked his wand and Snape's head was suddenly jerked upwards, his hood falling back to expose his bare face, pale skin marred by a trickle of blood at his temple. A slight smile skewed Snape's features, and he gazed blankly up at the hideous spectre before him.  
  
********* .  
  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Severus, has it come to this *again*?" The Dark Lord purred, and Snape felt a cold weight coalesce through the raging hot ecstasy in his chest and sink down into the pit of his stomach. Then he had it - he had forgotten his mask. He laughed at the sheer simplicity of it all.  
  
"Funny, is it, Snape? All I find in here -" He tapped a long, bony finger between Snape's unfocussed eyes, "- is mush. Porridge. One of your failed potions experiments." The black circle shifted and sniggered.  
  
Something was very wrong. The Dark Lord was angry with him, but, to tell the truth, Snape couldn't seem to find the energy to care. It wasn't until he saw the slender, polished wood of the Dark Lord's wand that the first real thrill of fear pierced his mental fog and he began to struggle through the heavy miasma to kick his mind into gear.  
  
Pain pain fire boiling ice - the sensations ripped through him, an exquisite agony that heightened his drugged euphoria to unbearable levels. His screams faded into a cough as he passed out.  
  
When he came to, muscles quivering with exertion and loss, he found himself prostrate at the feet of the Dark Lord. Out of long ingrained habit he began crawling forward in obeisance, one shaking hand extended to grasp the hem of the Dark Lord's robe. An enormous boot swooped down from the darkness and smashed into his skull, throwing a blinding spray of sparks across his vision.  
  
"Foolish worm," The Dark Lord's voice snapped across the silent ringing in Snape's ears like the sound of sheet ice cracking. "How two purebloods ever managed to create such a pitiful excuse for a wizard, I'll never know."  
  
With a swish of wine dark robes, the Dark Lord began stalking around the expectant circle, before suddenly spinning around to smile wickedly into Snape's bemused face. He turned back to the edgy circle. "Lucius, how very lucky for you that other... entertainment... dropped in. But don't fret, I haven't forgotten about you." Sensing blood, the circle contracted around Snape's prone form.  
  
"Ssseverusss... How nice of you to... open... your mind to me," The Dark Lord hissed, lips pulling back from small, sharp teeth imbedded in blackened gums. As euphoria began to disperse into a dull numbness, Snape realized that whatever was about to happen wouldn't be pleasant.  
  
The all too familiar blade of the Dark Lord's mind began prodding about in his skull, and he was unable to contain his laughter as he felt his mental defenses crack and crumble like dry dirt beneath the heel of the Dark Lord's mental onslaught.  
  
*********  
  
Malfoy sank back into the circle as the others surged ahead, anxious to witness whatever the Dark Lord had planned for Snape. Personally, Malfoy was too relieved with the suspension of his own punishment to take much pleasure in Snape's. Probably just the Cruciatus, again, he sighed to himself. Watching twitching, screaming bodies became decidedly uninteresting after a while.  
  
Even so, his attention was grabbed by Snape's almost unnatural stillness and the sound of poisoned honey dripping from the Dark Lord's tongue. When Snape hitched a quiet sob and the black cloaked figures around him roared with laughter, Malfoy began to listen more carefully to what the Dark Lord was saying.  
  
"Dear little Severusss... did daddy beat your mum? Tsk, tsk, don't cry," The Dark Lord mocked. "Oh, daddy doesn't like how weak you are, does he? The Cruciatus makes dear little Severusss sick, does it? There, there," the Dark Lord patted Snape's trembling shoulder. "Oh, the poor kitty cat, eh, Severus?" He chuckled as the masked figures whooped and jeered. "SO lonely... POOR little boy..." The Dark Lord gave a wheezing snigger. "See what happens, Severus, when you let a putrid Muggle substance into your life..."  
  
Malfoy watched as the Dark Lord ravaged Snape's mind, drawing out the memories of a bleak childhood and spreading them out for all to see. A truly heinous form of psychological torture, Malfoy mused, laughing with the rest of the circle as Snape broke down sobbing in front of all of them over a memory.  
  
*********  
  
A dark, grimy kitchen. Under his bare feet he could feel the grit of dirt imbedded between the rough wooden planks of the floor. Hungry. He was hungry. But Mother had told him to stay quiet, because Father was 'in a mood.' But...  
  
The scrawny child snuck across the cramped kitchen to look through the door into the dingy main room. At a splintery table, a tall, hook nosed man sat, the wavering light of a candle glinting off of a dark brown bottle.  
  
The little boy wrinkled his nose at the sour smell, but crept forward to stand beside his father's chair. He couldn't reach the bread cabinet, but he knew Father could. He could hear Mother's footsteps through the ceiling and hurried to ask Father before she returned.  
  
He reached out a hand to tug at his father's sleeve. "Father? I'm 'ungry." He shrank back as the dark haired man shifted to glare at him balefully with bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Moira! What's yer brat doin' in 'ere?!" He shouted up the stairs before casually turning and backhanding the little boy across the face. He glared blankly at the crying child before taking a swig from the bottle and wiping his mouth with a sleeve.  
  
Standing unsteadily, he turned his black gaze at the woman who had stopped suddenly at the base of the ladder to the second floor. She quailed beneath his scrutiny. "Antonius, 'e's just a little boy..."  
  
"Shut up, ye blatherin' wench! If 'e's gonna be a man wi' th' name Snape, by Merlin, 'e's gonna 'ave t' show th' wizardin' worl' thet we may be poor, but we's still pureblood! 'E's got ter act like a man, an' thet includes not whinin' an' carryin' on!" He took a menacing step forward. "Now, did I tell ye or din' I, thet 'e's not ter disturb me when I'm thinkin'?"  
  
The child curled up in a corner of the dingy room and nursed his split lip, trying to silence his sobs. They would only serve to make Father angrier. He couldn't understand what he had done wrong - sometimes Father was proud of him, ruffling his hair and calling him the heir of Snape, saying that he would one day bring the old family name back to its former glory. Other times, especially when Father gave off a sour reek and his eyes were red, he would hit him.  
  
Now Mum was in trouble, and it was all his fault for bothering Father. A deep, heavy emptiness overwhelmed him and fresh tears welled in his throat. The sudden crack of leather against skin jolted the little boy, and he felt the edgy bite of powerlessness as he watched his father lay into his mother with his belt.  
  
The pressure building up inside of him suddenly burst forth with a yowl as his control snapped. He began to scream and cry despite the fear that shot through his veins like ice when his father turned to face him.  
  
"Sharrup, boy!" His father's menacing figure loomed over the sobbing child. "Et's yer own damn' fault I 'ad ter punish yer mum!" With his eyes shut tight against the fearsome apparition before him, the little boy never saw his father level a wand at him and -  
  
The kitten squirmed on the cold, scarred wood of the butcher's block. The boy, a little older but still just as scrawny, toyed nervously with the scuffed old wand his father had handed him.  
  
"We'll start y'off wi' some 'exes, Sev'rus," came his father's rough voice. The boy felt a thrill of pride as his father patted him brusquely on the shoulder and began explaining what they were going to do.  
  
"Ye jus' lif' it up -" His chemical stained hand grasped the little boy's, "An' bring 'er down, like thet. Good boy." He stood back, surveying his son with narrowed eyes. "Th' word is 'atropos', say et nice an' clear."  
  
Glancing nervously at Father, he lifted the wand and almost dropped it when he felt an answering surge from within. Delighted, he turned to grin at his father, only to meet a stony glare. "Get on wi' it, boy!"  
  
Containing his prickly excitement, he again lifted the old wand and swung it down. "Atropos!" He felt a sickening slide as sparks shot from his wand. The kitten batted a paw at the tiny lights settling around it. The boy shrank away from his father, expecting a blow, but it was soon smothered by a surge of anger at the kitten now nonchalantly licking a paw. With a growl he shouted, "ATROPOS!"  
  
He felt almost as if he had been dipped in a slick of oil as sweet fire shot from his wand and slashed through the kitten. Blood splattered the butcher's block -  
  
His father was out and his mother was lighting the candles as Severus scrubbed the dishes. At every noise they flinched and froze before continuing silently.  
  
He jumped at the sound of the front door slamming open. A cold, empty fear jittered across his nerves and numbed the boy's frame, and he lifted a trembling hand to brush some hair out of his eyes. His father's drunken shouting at his mother twisted several long, rusty nails through his gut -  
  
He spat dirt out of his mouth, reaching for his wand as the other students flocked to see the latest brawl between the scrawny, ugly Slytherin loner and the Golden Gryffindor twins. A heel crunched down on his fingers, grinding his hand into the dirt.  
  
A hot, all encompassing rage flooded his mind and he struggled fiercely. The fingertips of his other hand grazed the handle of his wand and he managed to grasp it. With a snarl, he flicked his wand upward and hissed, "Atropos!"  
  
A shower of hot blood and a scream accompanied the lessening of pressure on his hand, and he scrabbled to his feet. Grabbing his book bag, he lurched to his feet. He only managed to go a few steps when from behind him he heard the shrill voice of McGonagall. "Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalis!"  
  
His wand flew out of his hand for the second time in as many minutes and he fell, stiff as a board, back into the dirt. Seething with anger, he hung onto the sweet taste of the curse he had slashed golden Potter's face with, trying to ignore the injustice closing his throat and forcing traitorous tears out the corner of his eyes -  
  
"Albus! I demand you do something about this child! This time he used a dark curse, wounded a fellow student, and bit another!" The Head of Gryffindor ground out. The boy felt almost completely overpowered by rage and a burning, unrepentant hatred. He was attacked first, he was constantly taunted, and when he struck back, he was punished. He should have learned from his father that those in power were inclined to abuse it -  
  
He regarded the small plastic pouch of white powder, then returned his gaze to the smug faced Muggle. He was deep in the slums of London, haunting the ruptured streets and garbage-strewn alleyways.  
  
For some reason, the dank, cheerless, anonymous gray of the streets was calming, the heavy smoke and car exhaust relaxing. He went from one hole- in-the-wall pub to the next, wandering aimlessly.  
  
It was the summer holidays after his sixth year at Hogwarts, and he was ready for anything that kept him away from home. Nobody bothered him at the dingy bars, and he had grown to like the warm numbness imparted by the fiery liquor. Head ringing slightly, he worked to focus on the Muggle's face.  
  
"It'll keep yeh from feelin' so down," the Muggle smiled widely, revealing several gaps in his teeth. "Look, seein' as yer so obviously in need o' some o' this magic powder -"  
  
"Magic?" His mind latched onto the unexpected word.  
  
"Oh, yes, this 'ere 'as th' power to make yer troubles go away. As I was sayin', seein' as yer so down an' all, I'll let yeh 'ave this first bit fer free." The smile widened as he pressed the clear plastic pouch into Severus' hands.  
  
"'Ow's it work?" He asked, staring dumbly at the powder. The Muggle's grin widened as he reached a hand into his grimy jacket and pulled out a small, dirty cardboard box. Across the top was written STERILE SYRINGES: FOR MEDICAL USE ONLY -  
  
Cold. Bone shattering, icy cold. Asphalt pressed roughly into his cheek and temple and when he opened his mouth to groan freezing sludge trickled in. A gutter. Each joint burning and almost immobile with stiffness and cold, he managed to roll out of the gutter and stare up at the predawn gray above him. The unknown substances soaking into his hair and freezing his scalp finally prompted him to sit up, a move he immediately regretted as he added his contribution to the gutter's contents -  
  
*********  
  
Malfoy looked dispassionately at the now silent Snape curled up in the dirt at the Dark Lord's feet. After going over the plans for the raid next week on the head of the Wizard Muggle Relations Bureau, the Dark Lord dismissed his still chuckling Death Eaters, several of whom aimed a parting kick at Snape's unresponsive body.  
  
As Malfoy was preparing to Disapparate, though, the Dark Lord raised a long, pale hand and beckoned him over. "Yes, My Lord?"  
  
Two ruby eyes glinted dully in the late evening light. "Do not think that I have... forgotten... you, Lucius, despite the fact that you have managed to essscape your punishment for the moment."  
  
"Yes, My Lord. I await your righteous wrath, My Lord." Malfoy flinched at the wheedling tone in his voice but kept his eyes downcast.  
  
"Good. You are a loyal ssservant, Luciusss. Take this -" He nudged Snape roughly with the toe of his boot - "near the Hogwarts grounds and leave him there. I'm sure he can make his way... home... on his own."  
  
"Yes, My Lord." Lucius bowed gracefully, and waited until the Dark Lord had disappeared in a swirl of magic before straightening and reluctantly grasping Snape and Disapparating to the Forbidden Forest, a mile out from Hogwarts.  
  
*********  
  
"Albus?" McGonagall slipped into the warmth of the Headmaster's office. "The house elves say that you've refused food." She found him sitting in the window seat, gazing blankly out into the moonlit night, Fawkes perched beside him on the sill. A howl from the depths of the Forbidden Forest was carried to the cozy room by the increasing wind, and McGonagall felt a shiver prickle her skin.  
  
"He was Summoned, Minerva." Dumbledore's voice gave a slight hitch and he removed his spectacles to rub at his eyes. McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He has survived before, Albus." After all, he is the quintessential Slytherin, she added ruefully to herself.  
  
The old wizard did not seem to have heard her words, and he lowered his face to his hands. "Why - why, after all these deaths - why must I still care?" Fawkes gave a lilting cry, pushing his head against Dumbledore's hands.  
  
"Albus..." McGonagall sat beside him. "Would Voldemort fear you if you didn't possess the one thing beyond his grasp?"  
  
"Do you remember, Minerva, the night Severus came to me to turn himself in?" Dumbledore's voice was the whisper of dead leaves as he lifted his head to again gaze out the window at the night. A sudden, sharp gust of summer scented wind stirred the silver length of his beard.  
  
"How could I forget? It's not every day that a young man leaves a trail of blood all the way from the Great Hall to here. If nothing else, I'll always remember the fit Filch threw."  
  
The ancient wizard beside her chuckled slightly at her gallows humor. "Argus later informed me that that was the last time he was going to clean up after a student who had already graduated from this school."  
  
He suddenly shifted on the window seat, peering intently into the moonlit night. McGonagall's eyes swept the grounds, but she saw nothing other than the grasses rippling in the rising wind, blades gleaming in the bright moonlight.  
  
"Albus, what - "She stopped as a motion on the dark edge of the Forbidden Forest caught her eye. A silver shadow ghosted through the trees, shining where the moonlight struck it. It was huge, the size of a small horse, and it flew across the ground as if unbound by earth. As it broke through the black trees and began to flow across the lawns, McGonagall could see that it carried a black bundle.  
  
"Severus..."  
  
*********  
  
Velvet blackness pressed inward, suffocatingly warm, compressing the wavering glow of a single candle into a piercing point of light. He groaned and tried to shift away from it. A voice fell flatly on his ears, as if muffled by the hot, heavy darkness.  
  
"He's moving, Albus." There was the sound of shifting cloth, and a searingly cold hand touched his forehead. He shrank away. "He's burning up. Poppy, do you have any more of that anti-inflammatory drought?" More cloth shifting, then the muted sound of footsteps.  
  
"Help me prop him up, Minerva." A shuffling, and then cold, cold ice slid along his back and wrenched him upwards. The motion caused a spark of pain to bloom in his chest and he moaned.  
  
"Quick! Poppy, his lungs again!"  
  
A frozen, parchment-like hand gripped his jaw and a long suppressed memory filled his mind with the cold, dank cell of his nightmares.  
  
Dementors.  
  
He struggled blindly against the claw grasping his face, a terrible fear freeing his mind from his thrashing body. Disconnectedly, he wondered what his soul would taste like - filthy, grimed with the oil of dark magic? Or would it be like his old nightmare, the Dementor pulling away unsatisfied and unable to find any soul at all?  
  
Numbingly cold fingers grasped his nose and pinched it shut. He fought to hold his breath, keep his mouth shut, but as the black, buzzing swarm of unconsciousness began to close in around him he lost control over his jaw muscles and they loosened. The cold mouth of a vial was shoved between his teeth and tilted. Blisteringly cold...  
  
*********  
  
The great wolf paced the infirmary, tufted tail twitching from side to side. At the bedside, Poppy Pomfrey smeared a healing salve across Snape's split scalp, pausing every once in a while to run her wand along his prone body and mutter. Dumbledore sat to one side, talking quietly.  
  
"Headmaster!" Pomfrey's outraged hiss grabbed the wolf's attention. Dumbledore hurried to her side, where she whispered furiously at him. "He's been taking it again! You assured me that he had stopped! Between the alcohol and the heroin, it'll be a wonder if I can heal any of this, and a miracle if he'll survive his own self medicating! His liver alone..."  
  
The wolf began to tune out the words, pacing silently through the darkened ward. Dumbledore's words the day before came forward in his mind, replaying aimlessly as the great wolf pondered their implication.  
  
*******  
*  
  
Dumbledore sat forward, eyes earnest. "However, my old friend, I fear that I must ask for your help yet again. Severus is in an extremely dangerous, yet critical, position, and we desperately need him to remain functional. His addiction runs deep in both his body and mind, and as long as the two share a space, true healing is nearly impossible."  
  
Remus was stunned. "Are you asking me to do what I think you're asking me to do?!"  
  
Dumbledore sat back, eyes lit with a tiny spark of mischief at the surprise on Remus' face. "I would have to ask what it was you thought I was asking you to do before I could answer that question," he said as he took a sip of tea.  
  
Remus held in a sigh of frustration. "Are you asking me to allow you to perform the Vers - Versamentus curse on me and Snape?"  
  
Dumbledore's gaze remained fixed on Remus'. "Yes I am."  
  
Remus shook his head in amazement. "That's ridiculous!"  
  
"...And before you ask, I'll tell you my reasons for wishing to adopt such drastic measures," Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. Remus listened intently - if Dumbledore was so straightforward about something, it was very serious, indeed.  
  
"Successful casting of Black Magic works a very powerful influence upon the caster. Each time, for instance, a person is able to cast one of the Unforgivable Curses, it becomes easier and easier until the caster desires nothing more than to do so again. A strong sense of power and control follows the use of dark magic, a heady combination that can quickly become an addictive force."  
  
"I understand all that, Albus, but what, even if I were to agree, would casting the Versamentus Curse accomplish?"  
  
"Patience, my friend." Dumbledore took a leisurely sip of tea before tapping the pot with his wand. "The tea is getting cold, Remus, are you sure you don't want a cup?"  
  
Remus absently picked up his teacup, gazing around his small room. The morning light was streaming through the windows, snagging tiny dust motes. The night before seemed little more than an exaggerated nightmare as he sat in his bright, airy room at Grimmauld Place.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat before taking another sip of his tea and continuing. "Severus, with his usual skill, managed to make his situation worse by attempting to control his urges with an inexpensive drug he had learned about and experimented with while skulking through the slums of Muggle London."  
  
He paused again, eyes distant and face sad. "As well as a physical desire, even need, for the substance, he well and truly believes that he needs to take it to keep himself under control." He sighed. "As long as his mind and his body are working in concert, neither can heal. He is killing himself, Remus."  
  
Dumbledore halted, and Remus looked up to see a tear slide down the side of the ancient wizard's nose and into his snowy beard. Remus felt a sudden, numbingly warm rush of compassion for the man before him, who had to stay strong for so many.  
  
"If you would be willing, you would take charge of his body as we work to heal the physical addiction, and allow his mind a chance to recover without it."  
  
Remus dropped his gaze, chest a battleground of confliction. To switch bodies with Snape - how could he bring himself to... to do it? Remus was well aware of his body's faults, not the least of which was its tendency to turn into a raging beast a few days a month, but it was his body and he had to admit to a certain attachment to it.  
  
He looked up at Dumbledore, ready to decline the Headmaster's request, when he realized what was resting on his answer. Snape was the Order's only full-fledged spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters. The man was a brilliant Potions Master, and an excellent Occlumens.  
  
He had saved Harry's life more times than Remus could count. St. Mungo's was not an option - once it became known that he bore the Dark Mark, his life was forfeit to any grieving family or revengeful staff member.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes held a great faith in Remus' good will, and a desire not to dissapoint the great wizard before him grabbed his tongue. "If you can convince Sn - Severus to do it, I will, too. But, Albus -"  
  
He paused, the heavy weight of what he was doing dragging down on his stomach and stretching his tired frame. "Albus, I don't think there is a puffskein's chance in a quidditch match that Severus will ever agree, and I doubt this will work at all, anyway, but I've thought those things before. I'll do it." He took a shaky sip of tea. "Merlin help us.  
  
*********** 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Apologies for the long delay – a death in the family, and various other real life concerns, put a wrench in the works, so to speak.  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
Remus sat on the sill of the infirmary window, watching a gray dawn creep across the paling sky. The light breeze curled around the loose window casing and tickled Remus' nose with the scent of dust and rain. He took a sip of his tea, feeling a quiet melancholy settle over his shoulders like the soft down of the rain clouds overhead.  
  
His potion-spiked tea eased the ache in his body brought on by the Change and the calmness of the early morning soothed his frayed nerves. The light, almost piercingly sweet notes of the sparrows flitting across the dewy grass were underscored by the deep, echoing croaks of two ravens at the edge of the forest. The sounds were muffled by the hushed anticipation of dry earth for the coming rain and despite himself, Remus felt his eyelids drooping. The soft, warmly scented breeze stirred his graying hair as he leant back and fell into an exhausted sleep.  
  
*********  
  
::No! Papa, stop! Please!::  
  
Snape woke up with a twitch. Mucus crusted his eyes and he couldn't breathe through his nose. The pressure in his sinuses was exacerbated by the fierce beat vibrating through his skull, down his spine, and along his nerves. His muscles felt frozen and his bones burned with delirious heat. ::Need - need the heroin...:: He coughed, trying to clear his head.  
  
"Severus?" A soft voice buzzed through Snape's ears.  
  
"D'you mind if I light a couple of candles?" A sharp light spiked through his right eye and a memory gripped him - his mother on the rough floor of the kitchen, his father leering above her - and a deep shudder pushed through him as his gut gave a heavy wrench.  
  
"Let me get you some blankets -"  
  
Snape's jaw clenched and he felt his teeth creak with the pressure. Through his addled thoughts and jumbled memories he recognized Lupin's voice.  
  
Still groping for reality amidst the wreck of his mind, he hissed "No!" The force of the word caught in his throat and he coughed, his eyes watering as his body tried to quench the fire gnawing at the marrow of his bones - his father leveling a wand at him, the crisp crack of magic and the unendurable, incomprehensible pain - the steady rise and fall of a thick strap of leather, the dull whack against flesh, his mother's begging - Snape felt a huge, seething mass of angry hate swell within his chest, consuming his mind and feeding off of both present and remembered pain. "Goin'..."  
  
"Severus? Are you okay?" Snape barely registered the words spoken to him through the pressure boiling his skull. The long, stained fingers of his nightmares grasping the scuffed old wand rose again and again in his mind's eye, but he was going to kill the old bastard this time, kill him with bare hands...  
  
*********  
  
Remus almost fell off of his perch at the sudden sharp cough from behind him. He stretched, feeling his back and neck twinge with reproach at his unorthodox position, before turning and peering into the gloom. After the brightening sky, the infirmary was cast in unreal shadows. "Severus?" Still blinking furiously at the gloom the light had cast across his eyes, he turned to where he knew Snape's bed was.  
  
The soft flow of air from the window behind him made it impossible to scent Snape, but as his eyes adjusted he was able to see the dark form against the white sheets of the hospital cot.  
  
"D'you mind if I light a couple of candles?" He asked quietly. When he got no response, he flicked his wand at the shelf beside Snape's cot and lit the candle sitting there.  
  
Snape was haggard, sallow skin tinted yellow. Two pitch black eyes glittered dully in the candlelight. Remus noticed that under the thin bedcovers, Snape was shivering violently.  
  
"Let me get you some blankets -"  
  
"No!" Snape barely moved his lips as the word grated past his teeth. He coughed again, wiping at streaming eyes before propping himself up on shaking arms. "Goin'..." He sniffed, his nose running.  
  
"Severus? Are you okay?" Remus watched with mounting trepidation as Snape's trembling became even more pronounced.  
  
"Goin'...goin' t'kill..." Snape was panting heavily through his teeth, his hands gripping the sides of the cot. He was shaking, eyes unfocussed, and the tendons were clearly visible in his neck. A vein throbbed in his forehead and a muscle jumped at his in his jaw. The thick, spicy musk of rage filled Remus' nose, and he put a hand out to steady himself.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
With a sudden jerk Snape snarled wordlessly and threw himself off the cot. Remus felt a chill squirm along his spine, the reek of pent up violence setting the hair on his neck on end as the barely quiescent wolf within cracked open its golden eyes.  
  
"Snape!"  
  
The gaunt man panted laboriously, limbs shaking, eyes and nose streaming. He looked frightful, his stringy black hair plastered to his too pale face and his snag teeth bared in a painful grimace. "Kill 'im-" The sharp bones of his face were skull-like beneath the rough shadow of his cheeks, and the violent scent grew as he took one shaking step, and then another.  
  
Remus' mind shook itself and he moved to stop Snape. "Severus, what's wrong?" Snape growled and pushed ineffectively at Remus' chest, but Remus easily restrained him.  
  
"Get th' f-fuck offa me! 'E's goin' t' die -"  
  
"Who, Severus? Who's going to die?" Remus was dizzy from the heady stink of aggression.  
  
"'E killed 'er! 'E killed 'er! I'm goin' t' kill 'im!" Snape screamed, and with a mighty jerk he broke free of Remus.  
  
"Snape! Stop!" Remus pulled his wand and without thinking stunned the fleeing figure. Snape fell to he ground with a thump and lay still.  
  
*********  
  
"What is going on in here?!" Madam Pomfrey's shrill voice rang through the Infirmary. Remus blushed as he stood over Snape's crumpled form and felt a strong need to explain himself.  
  
"Severus, uh, he woke up, and, um, he, he said that he was going to kill someone, or someone was going to be killed, and then he tried to take off, so I stunned him." He stood awkwardly to the side as the Mediwitch levitated Snape's body back onto his cot.  
  
"I can't take much more of this, Poppy." Remus' voice shook and he cleared his throat. "I haven't gotten more than a couple of hours sleep at a time for at least two weeks, and... and..." He stopped as a heavy knot wedged in his throat and the salty itch of tears brushed the back of his eyes. "I have to - to go through... through Sirius' will, in a week... and I want to get the house ready, in case..." He turned away and covered his face with his hands. He felt a gentle touch at his elbow.  
  
"Remus, sit down and I'll make some tea."  
  
She's so kind, he thought. She always took care of me, after the Change. The memories of the Marauders full moon escapades in the Forbidden Forest brought a new wave of sorrow and his breath hitched in his chest. A handkerchief was pressed into his hand and he wiped his face, suddenly acutely self-conscious of his maudlin behavior and red, tear-streaked face. He began to apologize, but she briskly waved it away.  
  
"Remus, drink your tea." She handed him a cup. It smelled of chamomile heavily laced with clover honey, and the steam soothed his face. "And some chocolate, Remus." A large chunk of extra strength medicinal chocolate was placed in his free hand and he managed a nibble before putting it aside. He picked it up again, however, when Pomfrey sent him a sharp glance.  
  
"All of it."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, and was rewarded by a small smile.  
  
"It's been tough for all of us, Mr. Lupin, but I think it has been considerably worse for you. I want you to go home and sleep for at least ten hours. I'll give you a timed potion, if you like, and you'll sleep deeply until about mid afternoon. I'll tell the Headmaster it's Mediwitch's Orders." She moved briskly about the Infirmary, clearing Remus' cup and checking on Snape.  
  
"Thank you, Poppy. I think I will."  
  
*********  
  
The door to his little room in the old Black mansion closed behind him and he breathed a sigh of relief. Unceremoniously dropping his threadbare traveling cloak on the floor, he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. Beneath his fingers he could feel tiny cracks and irregularities in the old paint coating the walls. The still moment was shattered when his stomach gave a reverberating rumble.  
  
::Food, then,:: he thought. ::When was the last time I ate anything?:: He shook his head. ::For that matter, what's the date today?:: He trudged across the creaky floorboards and pushed the door to his tiny kitchen open. He found some biscuits and jam shoved deep into one of the cabinets and pulled them out. ::They smell all right,:: he supposed. He was too tired to go back downstairs to see if there was anything more palatable to be found in the main kitchen.  
  
After cramming a few tasteless biscuits down his throat, he slouched over to the bed pushed against the yellowing wall and collapsed fully clothed across it. He washed the last of the biscuit with Pomfrey's sleeping potion and was asleep before the bottle dropped from his nerveless fingers.  
  
*********  
  
The warm, mellow golden glow of the light slanting through his dusty window inched across his face. He had managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, but now he lay on his back, wide awake. Questions tinged with guilt and sadness ran endlessly through his mind. ::What if I had stopped Sirius and James from tormenting Snape? What drove Snape to Voldemort? What if I had...? When did he start... taking the drugs? Was he taking them when we were students together? What if...?::  
  
::Who does he want to kill?::  
  
"This is ridiculous," he grumbled to himself. With a grunt he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "I have my own things to worry about, for Merlin's sake."  
  
His feet automatically carried him to the kitchen and the old teapot. While his hands were busy, his mind wandered back to Snape.  
  
::How are we going to...fix... this? We need him. What happened at the Death Eater meeting? Why did he wake up in a murderous rage? Will I ever be able to stop asking myself questions I don't know the answers to?::  
  
He smirked into the steam rising from the teapot. ::I'll go back to Hogwarts after I get a bite to eat. I need to talk to Dumbledore about the Gloucester Pack situation, anyway.::  
  
*********  
  
Remus quietly pushed open the doors to the Infirmary. The large room with its neat rows of white cots was empty save Snape, who still lay unconscious where Pomfrey had left him. Remus heard murmurs escaping from the brightly lit office at the far end of the Infirmary.  
  
He knocked lightly on the door and was soon greeted by a frazzled Pomfrey. "Oh, come in, Remus, the Headmaster and I were just finishing off a late lunch." She ushered him into the neatly appointed little room before moving out into the main Ward. Dumbledore sat on one side of her desk, and two plates holding cold sandwitches graced the otherwise uncluttered desk.  
  
"Remus, my boy. I trust you slept well?" Dumbledore rose to greet him. The old wizard smiled, but a shadow of unease sat upon his brow and shaded his eyes. "Come, have a sandwich. The house elves somehow manage to turn the simplest of meals into a feast." Remus allowed himself to be sat.  
  
"Albus, how are the negotiations going in South America?" Remus started on what he thought would be a relatively neutral subject.  
  
"They are going well, I hope. The Elders are debating our proposition: many of the younger generation are eager to help, but the Elders... they remember what happened when Voldemort first rose to power, and are understandably cautious about attracting his attention." He picked up his sandwich and took a large bite, chewing slowly as if to extract every last spark of flavor. "Roast beef - my favorite. Are you sure you won't have one?"  
  
"I ate at Grimmauld Place before I came over. Albus, I was thinking about the Gloucester Pack situation, and -" He was interrupted by Pomfrey, who stuck her head through the doorway.  
  
"I'm waking up Severus, now." Her head retreated. Remus and Dumbledore shared a glance before standing silently and following the mediwitch.  
  
*********  
  
When Snape's eyes slitted open Pomfrey gave a murmur of approval before hurrying to the supply room next to her office and emerging with a vial of milky fluid and a sparkling syringe. Pushing the needle through the heavy rubber stretched across the top of the vial, she drew up a careful twenty cc's.  
  
Snape had pushed himself up at Pomfrey's reentry and was now staring fixedly at the syringe in her hands. A thin strand of saliva leaked from the corner of his mouth and he licked his lips absently. He shuddered violently and Remus could see the muscles working in his throat and jaw.  
  
"Give -" Snape croaked dryly, his hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically.  
  
"One moment, Severus."  
  
"Wait - you're giving him some?!" Remus exclaimed, reaching out a hand to stop the mediwitch.  
  
"RE-mus! Stop this second!" The solid little witch evaded him with ease. "He can die of withdrawal. He's been using heavily for at least a week." She strode past him and came to the side of Snape's bed. Snape turned his spare, hawklike face toward the thin cylinder of glass like a moth to flame.  
  
His hand struck suddenly, snatching the syringe from a startled Madam Pomfrey. Panting roughly, Snape ripped at the sleeve of his long gray nightshirt before pausing and almost delicately sliding the thin metal spike beneath the skin at his elbow and injecting the milky fluid.  
  
The liquid gathered in a bubble beneath Snape's pale, almost translucent skin before slowly diffusing into the scarred vein. A bruise began darkening his forearm where the blood leaked from the punctured vein.  
  
*********  
  
A faint tug accompanied the spell Pomfrey cast, and Snape's eyes opened slightly to view the too bright infirmary. His body ached unbearably, and he could barely breathe through his running nose. With an effort he managed to sit up, wincing as his stiff shoulder screamed at him. Hadn't he left the infirmary already?  
  
He squinted his watering eyes and the blurry outlines of at least three figures coalesced out of the blinding brightness. Disoriented, he tried to - there. The glint of light on glass, the glitter of a needle. A desperate bloom of thirst almost burst his chest and he could feel his mouth begin to salivate. He tried to move forward, but his body refused to listen. If only... "Give -"  
  
The figures swirled around each other before the syringe was within reach. Without conscious thought he snatched it out of the air, ripped at his sleeve, and slid the needle under his skin.  
  
His stomach dropped with disappointment when he realized it was a relatively weak solution - enough to banish the withdrawal symptoms, clear up his sinuses, and enable him to function, but not enough to push him over the edge into blissful emptiness. He shuddered slightly as the drug slid quietly into his brain, soothing his aching body and clearing his head.  
  
This was enough to get him up and moving: he'd have to find something stronger later. A movement caught his eye and he jerked his gaze up to see the werewolf's face resolve out of the light. A wave of shame at his weakness and anger at the beast for seeing it crashed against the numbing barrier thrown up by the drug.  
  
*********  
  
"Something catch your interest, Lupin?" Snape hissed, and Remus tore his eyes off Snape's arm. The gaunt wizard glared blackly at him before blinking several times and closing his eyes. A slight smile curled the corners of his thin mouth as the sharp planes of his face eased.  
  
Remus' head buzzed with a queasy repulsion, and he had to turn away. Pomfrey tutted at the now slack Snape and took the syringe.  
  
"Severus Snape, if you ever presume to snatch medical equipment from me again, I shall give you the wrong medicine," Pomfrey huffed. Remus looked from her to Snape to Dumbledore in shocked surprise.  
  
"So you're just - just going to give it to him?! I thought you were going to bloody heal him!" Remus spluttered.  
  
"Since when do I need someone to heal me?" Remus spun around to see Snape's head emerge from the depths of a black robe. Long, slender hands reached under the cot and pulled out two scuffed leather boots.  
  
"Snape?!"  
  
"No, it's Merlin himself, in the flesh. Get out of my way, Lupin."  
  
"B-b-but -"  
  
"Your eloquence astounds me, as usual," Snape muttered as he finished tying his boots.  
  
*********  
  
"One moment, Headmaster. I need to discuss something with Professor Snape. Severus, please come with me." Pomfrey half led, half dragged Snape into the little office at the far end of the infirmary.  
  
Remus turned to face Dumbledore, who merely shrugged.  
  
"I am not staying in the infirmary!" A crash reverberated dully from the office. "There is nothing the bloody hell wrong with my liver! Wouldn't you just love that, a chance to lord it over me for days at a time, you bloody hypochondriac!"  
  
Remus reached the door to the office in time to see Snape shake off Pomfrey's restraining hand. His face was pale except for two lurid points of red high on his cheekbones, and his eyes shifted nervily. "Don't tell me to bloody well watch my language, there are no students around and I am a master of this school!" He growled, glaring blackly.  
  
"Then why don't you act like one, *Professor Snape*?!" Came Pomfrey's shrill retort. "Taking all manner of illicit drugs, drinking until you must pass out -"  
  
"What nonsense are you babbling about, woman?! Why the Headmaster ever hired such a quack..." Snape's voice had degraded to a venomous hiss and he refused to meet the mediwitch's eyes. He rubbed listlessly at the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Are you calling my professional capabilities into question, young man?! Even you might show some gratitude towards the person who just saved your life-!"  
  
Remus followed Dumbledore into the office where the old wizard's presence immediately stilled his staff members' bickering. After a moment of silence, Pomfrey turned to face the Headmaster.  
  
"He won't take the bezoar elixir! He refuses to admit that there is anything wrong with him! You wake me up in the middle of the night at my sister's home and drag me all the way back here to treat *that man*, and he refuses to let me help him!" Pomfrey's face was beet red, her eyes wide and wisps of her hair were beginning to escape from her wimple.  
  
Dumbledore held up a placating hand. "Severus, it would be best to do as Poppy says." Snape twitched and his face flushed hotly, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and Remus was painfully reminded of Snape's earlier aggression. The remembered reek of violence stung the back of his throat and he felt a wave of dizziness.  
  
With a dark, resentful glare shot at the Headmaster, Snape snatched the vial off Pomfrey's desk and stormed out of the room. Remus flinched as the doors to the infirmary slammed shut with a reverberating bang.  
  
"Uh -" Remus cleared his throat. Dumbledore regarded him over his gold framed spectacles.  
  
"The best medicine at this point is a listening ear, Remus. Please inform Severus that, when he is ready, I will hear his report."  
  
Frustrated, Remus tried to sort out his thoughts. "How is any of this helping? How are we going to - to fix all this? You don't seem to be doing anything, Snape isn't cooperating with your versamentus scheme, I have my ::own:: things to do, I haven't even had a proper night's sleep in a week, for Merlin's sake!" He felt as if he was fraying at the edges, his convictions unraveling as he realized that Dumbledore and Pomfrey were feeling their way as blindly as he was. The warm weight of Dumbledore's hand rested lightly on his shoulder.  
  
"Severus has a great many wounds, and he tries to care for them the only way he knows how. Please - speak with him."  
  
Remus fought the urge to shrug the hand from his shoulder and run back to Grimmauld Place, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week - and hopefully wake up to find out that this whole situation was a construct of his tired mind. "Fine. I'll go find him and try to talk to him."  
  
*********  
  
"Severus?" Remus reached the top of the Astronomy tower, panting slightly from the long climb. The Observatory at the top was dimly lit by the cloudy late afternoon sky, washing the stones in a dusty rose. Remus' wand had indicated that Snape was up here, for whatever unfathomable reason.  
  
Glancing about the broad tower top, he caught sight of a black clad figure shrouded in musty blue shadow.  
  
"Who were you going to kill, Severus?" Remus was as surprised by the question that tumbled past his lips. He had only intended to ask why Snape was in the Astronomy tower. In the shadows, Snape's face drained of color, black eyes widening before honing to a narrow obsidian blade.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," His sneer was only ruined by a subtle shaking. A moment later his expression shattered and he laughed sharply. "I suppose it's too bad I already killed him, eh?"  
  
Remus blinked. He had the same vertiginous feeling that swamped him before a Change, the feeling of his reality altering itself. "You - you killed -? Who...?" He cleared his throat. "Who did you kill, Snape?" His voice was quiet, but rage coursed through his blood. Snape had always made a point of accusing *him* of being a murderous monster. ::He also accused me of being dirt poor, when he was likely worse off financially than I was,:: a soft voice reminded him. A piece of the puzzle that was Snape fell into place with a muffled click.  
  
Snape's eyes glittered malevolently in the shadows. He seemed to be scrutinizing Remus, his sharp gaze traveling over Remus' face. Finally, as if coming to a decision, he looked away.  
  
"My father. And others, but I was thinking of my father." The words were quiet, but inflected with bitterness. Remus felt the world tilt beneath him, the strange feeling of stepping forward and finding only air where earth once was. Sensing Remus' shock, Snape chuckled mirthlessly. "How can you be so naive, Lupin?" Snape sneered. "What did you think I did as a follower of the Dark Lord, take tea and scones? Fox hunts, perhaps? It was - is - a *war*, Lupin."  
  
"But - but -"  
  
"No 'but's, Lupin. Now go away and leave me in peace." Snape turned away, and Remus growled in anger.  
  
"Snape! I'm talking to you!" With effort he forced himself to take a deep breath. Anger never solved anything. "Snape, why did you kill your father?"  
  
"Why are you still here?" Snape's voice was dismissive and he raised something to his lips.  
  
"Because I want to know. Because you're going to tell me."  
  
Snape laughed. "Or what?"  
  
"Or I'll do to you what you did to me." Remus forced the words past his recalcitrant jaw and hoped that Snape hadn't seen the effort they had taken to say.  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"You need me to make the Wolfsbane. I am quite capable of... making a mistake. It *is* a very complicated potion."  
  
The air between them hissed and crackled with tension. ::I'm standing up here arguing with a homicidal drug addict,:: Remus thought dazedly. ::Thank Merlin Dumbledore still has his wand.:: Snape again lifted something to his mouth.  
  
"Hell, Snape, are you drinking?!" He winced at the slightly manic taste of his words. "Do you ever bloody stop? No wonder -" He stopped with a strangled yelp as Snape surged to his feet and grabbed the front of Remus' robes. He was shorter than Remus by a good two or three inches, but managed to loom heavily over him. The scent of hard liquor tingled and burned in Remus' nose as Snape exhaled sharply.  
  
"You don't understand, do you, Lupin? You had a family that gave a damn about you. You had your stinking, arrogant bastard friends of yours. You were kept safe and protected as a student. You even had a bloody home to go to when you weren't at school!" The hiss rose to a screech at this last, and Snape panted harshly before abruptly letting go and slumping back against the darkening wall. The sun was quietly leaking out of the sky as dusk approached, but enough light remained to glint off of the bottle in Snape's hand.  
  
Remus forced himself to breathe before sinking to his knees and leaning back against the wall beside the thin, dark haired man. "My family wasn't all that great, you know. After I was Bitten, they sort of kept their distance. Nice enough, but not overly demonstrative." He paused. "Where did your family live?"  
  
He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Snape blush in the fading light before taking a long swig off of the bottle. It went down his throat like water. The sight made Remus slightly queasy, but he remained seated and didn't say a word.  
  
"You aren't going to leave me in peace, are you?" Snape sighed. It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
"No, I'm not." Remus felt as if he was within reaching distance of the answer. What it was the answer to, he wasn't sure.  
  
"And Dumbledore is going to make me switch -" he made the word sound obscene- "bodies with you if I don't. Typical. He thinks 'friendship' and 'communication' will solve all the world's ills." He paused, contemplating the small, flat bottle in his hand before tossing back another gulp. "If I talk to you, do not allow him to perform the versamentus curse."  
  
Remus felt surprise flower in his chest. Snape had seen what Remus hadn't - Dumbledore knew the threat of the curse would likely be enough to open Snape up. He gritted his teeth, but again didn't comment beyond nodding his head. "What's in that bottle?"  
  
Snape smirked. "Gin. And some licorice oil." He handed it to Remus, who took a cautious sniff. He could almost see the thick fumes wafting from the bottleneck. With a glance at Snape, he lifted it to his mouth and almost gagged as the sluggish fire burst in his mouth.  
  
With great effort he swallowed a mouthful, feeling it trace a harsh path from his mouth to his stomach, where it sat heavily. Through streaming eyes he saw Snape smirk in amusement at him before taking the bottle back and deliberately wiping the top on his sleeve, but Remus was too busy trying to catch his breath to take much note of the gesture. They both remained leaning against the smooth, cool stone wall, watching the day fade and the soft dusky gloom of impending night creep from the growing shadows.  
  
When the first star glimmered through the lavender haze of the darkening summer sky, Remus quietly stood and descended the long stairway back down to the main castle. The torches were beginning to flare to life as he grabbed a handful of floo powder. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."  
  
It wasn't until he had blown out the last candle and was drifting to sleep that he realized Snape had not only managed to avoid saying anything of substance, but had also gotten him to agree not to go through with the Versamentus curse. ::No wonder he's such a good spy,:: he thought ruefully as he drifted to sleep. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve  
  
Snape watched the Werewolf stand and leave. ::Too easy,:: he thought muzzily. With any luck, the whole thing would be forgotten by morning, he wouldn't get a lecture from Dumbledore, the Dark Lord's anger with him was satiated, and the Werewolf would leave him alone. Given past experiences, however, that was unlikely. He lifted the bottle with a feeling of ennui.  
  
The sky had become the heavy blue velvet of a moonlit summer night. The soft hooting of an owl reached him as his eyelids drifted over his field of vision. Enveloped in a warm, alcoholic glow, he didn't notice as another person stepped out onto the top of the tower.  
  
*********  
  
Minerva McGonagall sipped at her tea, watching the stars glitter through the dark rectangle of night sky visible through the window. With a sigh, she turned back to the cozily lit room. "So, Albus, what news?"  
  
The ancient, silver haired wizard regarded his teacup solemnly. "I don't know what to do about Severus, Minerva. Poppy has little experience with cases of addiction to Muggle drugs, and the problem with Severus goes far beyond just the physical aspects."  
  
Minerva spoke cautiously. "Have you given any thought to what may happen when the next school term begins?"  
  
"Minerva -"  
  
"I know you feel responsible for the boy, Albus, and I know that he has done a great service to the Order. But surely you must remember what you said to me all those years ago? 'In a war, we are all soldiers.' Soldiers die, Albus. Severus is a wreck." Her voice was an urgent whisper as she gazed into Dumbledore's sad old eyes. He looked away, then down at his tea, before looking back at Minerva. His eyes had taken on the color of hard blue steel.  
  
"I will do whatever it takes to keep Severus alive and well." The words fell with an unarguable finality. "If we do not maintain our humanity, then what are we fighting to preserve?"  
  
"Well, what measures are we going to take, then?"  
  
"I think we should move him to Grimmauld Place, where he can be watched. Remus has one of the suites on the third floor - perhaps they could share it," Dumbledore mused into his teacup.  
  
"Albus, are you mad? Severus would never consent to moving into the Black house, let alone room with Lupin!"  
  
"I never said anything about consent, did I?" The old wizard's face showed an inappropriate degree of mischief, and Minerva almost swore out loud.  
  
"For Merlin's sake, Albus, have you ever heard of Occam's Razor?" she huffed.  
  
Dumbledore waggled his long, silvery beard at her and smiled, the gold-framed glasses perched precariously on his long nose winking with his movements. "I haven't touched a razor in over a century, my dear," he murmured.  
  
Minerva sighed. "All right, all right, as you wish, Albus." She finished off her tea in one swift gulp. 'Shall I go find him? We have much to talk about, and although I know you wish for Severus and Remus to become friends of a sort, Severus will be more amenable to discussion without a childhood rival lurking around."  
  
"That would be good, Minerva. Thank you."  
  
*********  
  
Her wand tugged her towards the Astronomy tower. ::The Astronomy tower? Of all the places...:: The climb up the tower was long, and she paused at the platform halfway to the top. Through the window she could see the moonlit grass ripple softly in the summer breeze. After a few quiet, contemplative moments she continued her upward trek.  
  
It was with a sigh of relief that she reached the Observatory at the top of the tower. The broad expanse of the sky stretched languidly overhead, and she paused to pick out a couple of summer constellations before calling softly, "Severus?"  
  
A sudden shifting and a muffled clink came from her left. With a wave of her wand she lit the tower top with a soft glow. A dark shadow leaned against the low balcony fitted with empty telescope mounts, their charges packed away until the advent of the next school year. As the soft wand light illuminated the Observatory, the shadow turned two black, glittering eyes at the intruder.  
  
Minerva was suddenly overcome with awkwardness. His defiant gaze forcefully reminded her of the dour, dirty little boy who had refused to touch the Sorting Hat, the scrawny young man daring her to comment when she had first learned of his crimes, of the tireless fighter at Dumbledore's side. The man who had murdered innocents, who had cast the blackest of magicks countless times. . McGonagall sighed, frustrated with herself. Now was not the time to dwell on anything but the here and now. "Severus, stop sulking like a homesick first year and come down for some supper."  
  
"No."  
  
"Severus Snape, come with me this instant." .  
He pointedly ignored her, continuing to gaze vacantly at the broad, velvety sky above them.  
  
McGonagall sighed. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus. Albus needs to hear your report." When he again refused to respond, she began to feel her temper flare. In two strides she came up beside him, grabbed his elbow, and tugged. An empty bottle slipped from his fingers and smashed loudly on the stone floor. Snape looked dumbly at it, then turned his gaze upward to stare at her.  
  
"Snape!" Minerva was furious. "Merlin help me, I cannot understand why Albus puts up with you! You cannot even face your own life sober!" She felt empty, anxious. When she got no response, she grabbed his elbow again. "You are coming with me to the Headmaster right now!"  
  
"Gerroff, damnit!" He spun around and backhanded her clumsily, gripping the low parapet with his other hand for support. They faced each other, Snape panting heavily and Minerva placing an absent hand on her stinging cheek.  
  
*********  
  
After Lupin left the Astronomy Tower, Snape managed to haul himself off of the cold stone floor. He felt wonderfully mellow and calm, as if he was floating above the world and all its problems. The stars wheeled majestically overhead as he leaned against the parapet. His head swam, the dark horizon of the forest tilting against the bright night sky as if it was revolving in slow, jerky quarter turns. Despite the great height of the tower, he found himself leaning further and further outwards...  
  
"Severus?" He jerked disjointedly at the sudden sound behind him. McGonagall. He felt like a student again, out after curfew and drunk, to boot. A lazy stab of fear curled in his gut and he tried to hide the empty bottle. ::Please don't take points, please don't take points...:: a young little voice threaded through the fog of his mind.  
  
Light suddenly illumined the broad tower top and he turned his head to blink at the stern, sharp-featured woman before him. She sighed sharply. "Severus, stop sulking like a homesick first year and come down for some supper."  
  
"No." ::Just go away...::  
  
"Severus Snape, come with me this instant." McGonagall's voice was sharp. ::If I ignore her, maybe she'll leave.:: He tried to count the stars above, but his former teacher's presence had destroyed the calm tranquility of the night. A seething resentment began to build deep in his chest.  
  
McGonagall sighed again. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus. Albus needs to hear your report." ::Why don't you leave me in peace?! I was content, for a moment...::  
  
He heard two quick clicks of her boot heels on the stone floor before she grabbed his elbow and tugged. The empty bottle of gin slipped from his fingers and smashed slowly, as if the air had gelled around it. His stomach plummeted with the glass and a removed sense of doom washed coldly over him. ::Shitshitshit...:: He winced as she began to shout at him.  
  
"Snape! Merlin help me, I cannot understand why Albus puts up with you! You cannot even face your own life sober!"  
  
She grabbed at him again and he recoiled from her reaching hand, his earlier irritation flaring into hot, expanding rage. The pressure in his head roared through his ears as he turned. He felt dislocated, as if he was observing himself.  
  
"Gerroff, damnit!" His arm swung back on its own accord and his hand struck her face. It felt so good, so satisfying, to react physically at the annoyance she caused, as if she was nothing and *he* was in control of *her*.  
  
He crashed back into himself.  
  
*********  
  
"Oh, Merlin, oh, Merlin..." Snape's face was the color of bleached bone in the moonlight. Minerva's shock quickly faded into anger and she whipped out her wand. At the sight of the slender beech wood raised above him, Snape crumpled to his knees and covered his head with his arms. His ragged breath whistled through his mouth and he gave a quiet sob, mumbling into his arm, "No, no, Papa, don', please, no, no..."  
  
Minerva was at a loss for words. It wasn't long, though, before her mothering instincts began to tug at her mind. Snape looked supremely unthreatening cowering at her feet, and she knelt down beside him. She wrinkled her nose at the reek of sour alcohol. ::He was my student,:: she thought sadly. ::What could I have done to prevent this...? Could I have changed things for him?::  
  
With some guilt she recalled her less than favorable attitude towards the lonely, ugly little Slytherin boy. It seemed very different, now, knowing that boy's future. A fierce wrench of protectiveness towards her students gripped her chest and almost brought tears to her eyes. She knew Snape was a person making the best of the hand he'd been dealt. He was not a nice person, but she honestly believed he was a good person.  
  
"Get up, Severus. The Headmaster would like to see you." Her voice was soft, but strength rested behind the facade of her mild words.  
  
The young man before her slowly uncurled and buried long, spidery hands in his lank hair. "No, no, no..."  
  
Minerva stared shrewdly at him. ::The boy is no longer in his right mind,:: she realized. "Severus, please stand up," she cajoled, a tingling feeling of impotence stirring the hairs on her neck. ::Just like Eleanor, after she was captured...:: Memories of the war with Grindewald's forces almost sixty years ago suddenly threatened to swamp her, but she shoved them roughly out of her conscious. A light sweat prickled her brow, at odds with the cool breeze from the Forest.  
  
********  
  
::He's in my head... he's in my head...:: An upraised arm, the scent of magic gathering.  
  
::No escape...::  
  
**********  
  
The forest was dark, the sounds of night insects and the rustling of small things in the brush seemed almost unnaturally loud to his ears. His tongue lolled from his mouth as his lungs worked to expel the torpid summer air, and he followed the trail before him, its scent like colored smoke dissipating into the slight wind. Nose down to catch the ground scent, he loped after it.  
  
Violence. Pain, blood, dark magic. His tail twitched behind him and he pressed on.  
  
A clearing opened up before him. The colors had been leeched from the earth, bleached by the full moon's harsh light. The tall summer grasses hissed and rustled in the hot, dry breeze, and the sound of crickets was almost deafening.  
  
The seeded grass heads bobbed on their tall stalks above him, obscuring the bright, cold stars as he followed the trail through the waving grasses. The scent of broken stems was a sharp tang in his nose, and he sneezed once, twice, thrice.  
  
The trail pulled insistently at his nose, but the cloying perfume of crushed grass and the rushing warmth of the summer air combined with the monotonous droning of the crickets served to lull his mind. It wasn't long before he sunk to the baked, dusty earth and curled up, head swimming, and fell into a deep sleep.  
  
*********  
  
He stretched, enjoying the warm tingling as his muscles squeezed sleep-heavy blood back to his awakening heart. He felt better, fresher, than he had for weeks. He sighed happily into his pillow.  
  
It wasn't until he was halfway through an early breakfast down in the main kitchen of Grimmauld Place that his mind returned to the events of the last few weeks. For a moment, the cool, long kitchen, cast in shadows and lit only with bright morning light filtering through the dirty windows, had brought him back to his childhood home. Reality crashed down around him with a weight unbecoming of the summer morning.  
  
::Don't think about that now,:: he chided himself. ::You have to go meet Raksha Mahu today.:  
  
Remus could hear the front door click and then the loose floorboards in the entrance hallway creak as Molly Weasly entered the house. She hummed quiet snatches of song as she bustled into the long kitchen.  
  
"Oh! Good morning, Remus," she said as she put a skillet on the range and set some eggs to beating themselves. "You're looking better than you have in weeks," she added as she poured the eggs into the skillet and left the bowl to wash itself in the sink.  
  
"'Morning, Molly," he returned around a mouthful of porridge. She turned from the sausages she was grilling to give him a quick smile. "What's the Cleanup Crew going to work on today?" he asked.  
  
"Well, we're going to clear out some of the dark arts material on the third floor, and Albus asked that we prepare a room for Severus," she replied nonchalantly.  
  
"What?!" Remus shouted, and an answering scream from the hallway caused them both to wince.  
  
"Filthy mudbloods and blood traitors, defiling the hallowed seat of the Black family! May your dirty magic curdle in your filthy blood! May-" An explosion sounded in the hallway and the shrieking cut off sharply. Remus and Mrs. Weasly glanced at each other.  
  
"Stupid old bat," came a muffled reply, followed by a thump. "Ouch! That thing bloody well moved, it did!"  
  
A neon orange head of spiky hair poked through the kitchen door. "Oh, hello! Wotcher, Remus! Ooh, that smells good, Mrs. Weasly!" A gangly body followed the eye wrenching head. Mrs. Weasly frowned at the young Auror, but Lupin could see the amusement in her eyes.  
  
"Sit down, Tonks, breakfast will be ready shortly."  
  
"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Weasly, ma'am! Oi, Remus, did you hear tall, dark, and snarky was moving in here? Dumbledore said-"  
  
Remus could feel his frustration building. "Tonks, when did Dumbledore tell you that Snape was going to live here?"  
  
"Got an owl this morning. Silly thing flew right into my window, didn't even stop to check-"  
  
"Tonks, what did the letter say?" Remus felt stretched, his nerves fraying. Dumbledore was going to move Snape into the Black house? Was he completely mad?  
  
Unperturbed, Tonks riffled through the pockets of her Muggle jeans. "Ah! Here it is." Her face grew lined and a silvery beard sprouted from her chin, and despite his tension Remus had to bite back a laugh. "'Dear Nymphadora'-" she frowned, "'I hope this letter finds you well.' Then it says a lot of stuff about the Aurory, the breakout from Azkaban, shifts for watching over Harry..." Her bright blue eyes scanned the parchment. "Here it is - 'Professor Snape will be moving into the Order headquarters. Please aid in the preparation of a set of rooms for his use.'" Her face regained its youth and her long beard disappeared. "That'll be a nasty business, if y'ask me. He *hates* this place. I wonder how Dumbledore convinced him to-?"  
  
Remus stood up hurriedly, a gnawing sense of urgency chewing at his insides. "I - I've got to go, Tonks. What time is it-? I'll be late - I've time for a shower, I think-" He almost knocked his chair over in his haste before half walking, half running out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasly and the young Auror shared a look.  
  
"What's up with him?"  
  
*********  
  
"Severus, you are going to move into Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore stated firmly, and Snape felt his stomach squirm in shame. He cast a furtive glance at McGonagall, but quickly returned his gaze to his lap. His head hurt terribly and his hands shook as nausea faded in and out of his gut like the buzzing of insects.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster." He still couldn't believe that he had hit McGonagall. In truth, he could remember very little about the night before. He knew, however, that he was currently in no position to argue with Dumbledore.  
  
"Need I say I am very disappointed with your behavior, Severus?"  
  
"No, Headmaster." Snape's response was little more than a whisper.  
  
"I believe apologies are in order." Snape winced at Dumbledore's low voice.  
  
"Professor McGonagall, I ask you to accept my apologies for my... inexcusable behavior... last night." He tried to look up at her, but his neck refused to turn. He had struck McGonagall - *McGonagall* - the only member of the staff who had accepted him fourteen years ago, the only person who had ever come close - in his reckoning - to Dumbledore.  
  
"Just don't let it happen again, Mr. Snape." He fought the urge to cringe at her dismissal.  
  
Kicked out of Hogwarts - he couldn't think of a worse punishment. ::I swear I'll never touch alcohol again,:: he thought miserably.  
  
"Well then, you should pack your things, Severus. You will be rooming with Remus Lupin." Snape's gut twisted and he choked back a refusal.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster."  
  
*********  
  
Dumbledore and McGonagall both sat back and sighed as the door to the Headmaster's office closed quietly.  
  
"Albus, really-"  
  
"Minerva, a little guilt makes the gears run smoothly, especially with him."  
  
"Honestly, I grabbed him first. I probably startled him, and I know how much he hates to be touched..."  
  
"Don't make excuses for him, Minerva. Besides, now we don't have to deal with a two hour hissy fit about him moving to Grimmauld place."  
  
"You made it sound as if he knocked me down and beat me, Albus, really, it was just-" at Dumbledore's mischievous smile Minerva rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I cannot believe how much of a puppet master you are, sometimes," she sighed. "But you are right - it is nice to have him behave meekly every once in a while." 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen  
  
Remus rushed out of Grimmauld Place as fast as he could without actually running, apparating as soon as he was beyond the anti-apparition charms. The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was an enraged Snape.  
  
*********  
  
If he had hoped for the old Black mansion to be mercifully empty, he was most grievously mistaken. He had forgotten that the Weasleys were going to spend the summer again at Grimmauld Place, and the kitchen sounded as if the entire Aurory - We'll see if we can make him talk...- had taken up residence. Fortunately, Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe, if he just - a shout of anger, an upraised hand - stuck to the walls, no one would notice him...  
  
"Snape! What're you doing, skulking about in the entranceway?" Damnit. Moody.  
  
Snape drew himself up to his full height, ignoring his aching head. "I have every right to be here, Moody," he hissed.  
  
"There's those who would disagree with you, there, Snape," the grizzled old Auror growled, clawed wooden foot scraping ominously on the rough old floor of the dark entrance hall. Studiously avoiding the prickling stare of the electric blue eye rotating crazily in its socket, Snape tried to ignore the desire to back away.  
  
"Oi! Moody, It's all right! Snape's here on Dumbledore's orders! He's gonna stay here, for a while," Tonks called from the kitchen.  
  
"Is that so, Snape? Now, why would Dumbledore kick you out of the castle, eh? Oh, don't bother telling me, I'll find out for myself," the Auror leered before turning around and limping eagerly back to the kitchen. "Behave yourself, Snape, or you may... find yourself at a disadvantage..." He sneered at he doorway to he kitchen. "I suppose this has something to do with why Dumbledore... borrowed... your wand?" With a wink, Moody slipped back into he kitchen.  
  
Anger boiled explosively, a hot, violent churning in his chest. The damnable muscle in his jaw began jumping in time with the pounding in his head and he fought the urge to grind his teeth. ::Decrepit old goat... if it weren't for Dumbledore, I'd...::  
  
"You."  
  
Snape jerked around to face the scowling portrait behind him.  
  
"The Black family does not associate with the Snapes," old Mrs. Black sneered, painted lips curling. "I demand that you leave immediately."  
  
Snape was angry, ashamed, hungover and bloody well pissed off. A stupid painting was not going to drag Blood politics into an already deplorable morning. With a growl, he reached for his wand, and - fuck.  
  
The painting laughed, a sound like dry, rusty hinges. "Some wizard. The Snape's always were a little off with their magic - all that foreign blood..."  
  
Snape had never been more than very average with general wand magic, but he knew better than to respond defensively to an insult.  
  
"Jealous someone still carries the name Snape, are you, Madam Black? I'm sure the demise of the last Heir of the Blacks was... painful... can't say I'm all that distraught, personally..."  
  
He cut off suddenly when he realized he was arguing with a painting. ::Pitiful, truly pitiful.:: A heavy weight congealed out of the unsettled contents of his stomach and he turned away in disgust.  
  
Her howls followed him as he struggled up the narrow staircase with his trunk. All the hells would freeze over before he asked somebody else to cast a levitation charm on it for him.  
  
*********  
  
Dropping the trunk in a corner of the sunlit room, Snape surveyed his new lodgings. There was a desk in one corner, underneath one of the high windows looking out onto the tangled garden, and a small bed in the other. Tiny, hole-in-the-wall kitchen, and an equally cramped bathroom. Two armchairs by the cold fireplace.  
  
With a sigh, he dropped into one of the armchairs, and found himself -grow up, yeh snivellin' coward, or I'll do et fer ye- missing his blue couch. ::Don't be stupid,:: he growled at himself. ::It's just a bloody piece of furniture.::  
  
The silence allowed his exhaustion to voice itself, pinpricks invading and weakening his muscles. A heavy band of need was pressing all thoughts of sleep from his mind, however, and his fingers itched with desire. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he had last had any heroin, and the throbbing burn in his bones was overpowering his body's need for sleep.  
  
With a groan, he stood and began jerkily pacing the small room. ::Dumbledore's disappointed... but a little wouldn't hurt, would it...? I could be down to Bankside and back within an hour... I certainly won't be of use to the Order as a nervous wreck...:: He realized he was chewing on the skin of his fingers and forced his hand down to his side, where it promptly tangled in his robes.  
  
::Damn it all... I'll get just enough to make it through the day...:: He strode to the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. ::That's just a bloody excuse.:: He sat back down on the armchair, but it wasn't long before restless need drove his pounding head and screaming bones to pace again.  
  
The seconds crawled by, the sun barely seeming to move in the sky. ::Too bright... too bright...:: His fingers were a bloody mess, but he knew that if he left the room he would never come back.  
  
A deep sorrow gnawed at his heart. He had disappointed Dumbledore, he had physically attacked McGonagall... he didn't deserve their kindness. At least the Dark Lord punished failures properly - a few minutes of excruciating pain, and then it was over. No guilt, no little sweets, no weighty conscience.  
  
::If I could only get a drink...:: But the damn werewolf didn't even have any liquor. His nose and eyes were slick with mucus and he scrubbed a sleeve across his face, almost banging into a wall.  
  
The wall - the walls were covered in thick layers of crumbling paint, various shades of dismal, ugly colors. He stopped for a moment and scratched at the paint, ignoring the blood from his fingertips staining the white topcoat. White, dull blue, olive drab, steel gray, light pink...? His foot tapped under him, and he twitched away from the wall to resume pacing.  
  
*********  
  
Late that evening Remus stumbled through the front door of Grimmauld Place. He was exhausted. Along with dealing and term wrangling, Mahu had found the time to ask him why he didn't run with a pack on the full moon, and to nettle him about his lack of werewolf pride. He had responded that he felt no particular reason to be proud of his disease, and the meeting had gone downhill from there.  
  
Between the hot, reeking, unbelievably loud mass of humanity crammed into the dirty pub, the sour beer in his stomach, and Mahu's accusations, Remus was worn down to a thread. He ached for a hot shower, some of Molly Weasley's thick stew, maybe a glass of wine, and a soft bed.  
  
What he found when he opened the door to his little suite crushed all hopes of a calm, pleasant evening. His skull cinched a size tighter and he almost groaned aloud.  
  
"Severus."  
  
"Lupin." Snape was sitting hunched over the small desk, his head in his hands. Taking in the battered trunk shoved against the wall, Remus' heart sank.  
  
"Are you going to be staying in here?"  
  
"No, Lupin, I just enjoy sitting in your room." Snape's voice was tired and flat, the sarcasm no more than a reflexive response. He hadn't moved from where he sat, face buried in long, bony hands. Remus almost growled in frustration. He was about to toss his cloak on a chair when Snape sat up and shoved a folded letter towards Remus. "Dumbledore left this for you."  
  
Remus broke the seal and quickly perused the letter.  
  
'Dear Remus Lupin,  
  
I hope you will accept my apologies for this intrusion into your privacy. Minerva and I came to the unanimous conclusion that Severus should reside at Order Headquarters, where he will be surrounded by those who care for him.'  
  
::You mean where he can be watched,:: Remus groused uncharitably. He immediately felt a cold twang of guilt at the thought. ::I wonder why Minerva...?:: With Dumbledore, Snape's placement in Remus' rooms could be little more than his continued attempts at creating some kind of resolution between the two, but Remus trusted Minerva to have more practical reasons. He continued reading.  
  
'It would be a great asset to our cause if you would be willing to watch over Severus for a little while, and to try and draw him out into conversation. I know this asks a lot, my boy, but Severus' continued health is absolutely critical.'  
  
::As if I didn't have enough to worry about...:: He shook his head and sighed at himself. Where would he be if it wasn't for the trouble others took for his sake? ::Dumbledore took me in as a child, he gave me a job, he provides food and lodging for me... I owe it to him.:: Another voice hissed in his ear, ::And you owe it to Snape too... would he be where he is now if you had stopped James and Sirius?:: Remus sat down and fought the urge to massage his temples.  
  
'I am also well aware of your troubles with Raksha Mahu. I do believe that if you remain firm in your offer and do not allow her jibes to knock you from your course, we shall be successful in enlisting the help of the Gloucester Pack.  
  
'If you have any further concerns, please drop by for tea.  
  
'Sincerely yours, Albus Dumbledore.'  
  
Remus folded the letter and shoved it into his pocket before storming into the little kitchen. He stared blankly at the cracked tile counter. ::Why the hell did I come in here...?:: He stormed back out again, not precisely sure what he was angry about, but driven on by the hot, itchy pressure of it.  
  
Snape still sat at the little desk under the window, leaning on his elbows and with his fingers wound into his stringy black hair. He stared sightlessly ahead, and as Remus came closer he could see Snape shaking slightly.  
  
"Sev-"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come see if Molly has any stew in the pot," Remus snapped back.  
  
"No."  
  
"Fine." Remus turned on his heel and couldn't help slamming the door slightly. He strode down the dark corridor, hand on the banister, and down two flights of stairs to get to the ground floor and the kitchen. From the dark entrance hall where the stairs emptied him out, the glowing light around the kitchen door was like a balm on his nerves. Thoughts of steaming piles of home cooked food, a warm fire, and hopefully some good company warmed his stomach as he pushed open the kitchen door.  
  
Tonks was there, and Moody. Shacklebolt was sitting at the long table soaking up some soup with a piece of bread and talking with a vaguely familiar, middle aged witch. Molly and her husband were talking with Bill, who seemed to be telling one of his curse breaking stories. Remus heard Fleur Delacour mentioned more than once.  
  
"Remus! You're alive!" He was almost tackled as the young Auror's foot caught on a chair leg and she sprawled into him.  
  
"Hey, Tonks," he said as he helped her stand again. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"Well, beyond the fact that there's a vampire waiting in your room..." She smiled toothily at him. Over her shoulder, he saw Molly Weasley give them an appraising look, and he felt his cheeks warm.  
  
"I'm okay, Tonks.... Just let me grab a bowl of that stew." He edged around her, and Mrs. Weasley handed him a bowl.  
  
"Here you go, Remus. You look like something the kneezle dragged in." Mrs. Weasley commented as Remus pulled out a chair and sat heavily. Tonks sat next to him and began chattering, but Remus' exhaustion faded out her words.  
  
He gave a sigh as he began to dig into his vegetable stew. "That's about how I feel," he grumbled. Mrs. Weasley tutted, and Mr. Weasley gave him a sympathetic look. He was about to say something more when the kitchen door burst open to admit two fiery red heads and a mass of thick brown curls.  
  
"Professor Lupin!" Hermione Granger. And Ron and Ginny Weasley, but they were too busy greeting their older brother, Bill, to notice Remus. Despite himself, Remus wished he could be alone for a while.  
  
"Hello, Hermione. Please call me Remus; I'm not a professor anymore." He finished scraping the last of the stew from his bowl and stood. "Thank you for the stew, Molly, it was delicious, as usual." Before anyone could detain him, he left the kitchen and climbed back up the creaky stairs to his set of rooms.  
  
*********  
  
"Poor Remus," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "How could Albus make him live with Severus? Especially recently," she continued as she absently spooned stew into bowls for Hermione, Ginny and Ron. "Why don't you three go eat upstairs?" she continued, and giving them a 'we're about to have an adults only conversation' look. Hermione's ears pricked and she motioned for Ron and Ginny to follow her silently.  
  
"Do you still have any of those extendable ears, Ron?" she whispered when they had reached the muffled darkness of the entrance hall. The two redheads gave her surprised looks.  
  
"Yeah, Fred and George sent me some of their new and improved ones - claim they can even sneak past an impervious charm. Have I gone completely nutters, or is Hermione suggesting that we break the rules?"  
  
Ginny's brown eyes sparkled, and she raced silently to the room she shared with Hermione.  
  
*********  
  
"Why Albus continues to trust that ugly git I'll never know," Moody growled. Molly dropped her ladle back into the pot and fixed the old Auror with an icy glare.  
  
"Your constant bickering doesn't help matters, Alastor," she said coldly. "The poor boy is under a load of stress - "  
  
"Rubbish! He's got nothing to worry about. Voldemort must be ecstatic with Snape's position in the Order, and Dumbledore is too blind to see the danger Snape presents!" he spat, battered face twisting with anger, scars showing white against the flushed skin.  
  
"He hasn't shown any signs of disloyalty, Mad Eye," came Shacklebolt's deep, smooth voice. He turned to catch Moody's gaze, gold earring glinting against his dark skin.  
  
"Even if he were loyal, he's a wreck! He passed out drunk at that Order dinner thing of Albus's a week ago, and he stank of booze when he came in this afternoon. Merlin only knows what an excuse to use the Dark Arts again is doing to him - he's not reliable!" Moody stood, emphasizing each point with a fist on the table.  
  
The rest of the kitchen's occupants sat silently for a moment before beginning to talk quietly among themselves. Bill Weasley sat beside Shacklebolt and began muttering quietly with the solid wizard while Tonks listened.  
  
"What do you think we should do about all this?" Bill asked, pushing at a strand of bright red hair that had escaped its ponytail. Tonks knew that he respected Shacklebolt's rational, well-considered thoughts. "I remember Snape a bit in school – he was a few years older, used to get picked on a lot. D'you think he's finally gone 'round the bend, Kingsley?"  
  
The bald wizard sighed. "I don't know, Bill. He has the potential to cause a lot of harm, but also a lot of good. We can't throw him away just yet in this game." Tonks nodded.  
  
Maybe that's why Dumbledore wants him here? So we can keep an...'eye' on him?" She wrinkled her face and rolled an enormous blue eye at them, wagging grizzled eyebrows suggestively. Bill suppressed a laugh and Schacklebolt had to fight a smile.  
  
At the other end of the long table Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had their heads bowed together. "What are we to do when the next school term starts, Arthur?" The first real signs of doubt were evident in Molly's voice. "I'm not sure I want him teaching our children if he's falling apart," she told her husband. He raised a placating hand.  
  
"Trust Dumbledore, Dear. He would never put the children in harm's way."  
  
*********  
  
The door opened at Remus' touch, and he stepped across the threshold to collapse full length on his bed. He lay savoring the relative quiet, but it wasn't long before a persistent tapping made itself known. The sound was frenetic, unsteady, the arrhythmic pulse of a rabbit beneath the nose of a fox. Despite his exhaustion, it needled its way into his subconscious and tugged him back to wakefulness even as he began to doze.  
  
He turned to locate the source of the sound. Snape was still hunched over the desk, his chin buried in the crook of one arm and his other hand tangled in his greasy hair. Two black eyes continued to stare sightlessly, red rimmed and swollen. It didn't take long for Remus to locate the awful tapping - Snape's still booted heel seemed to be vibrating of its own accord.  
  
"Snape!" He didn't seem to hear. "Snape, quit that infernal tapping!" No response. Just what he needed to top off his day - Snape as a roommate Remus hauled himself off the bed and stomped over to the rickety old desk. "Snape, I said stop the bloody tapping!" He grabbed at Snape's shoulder, but the other man started so badly he fell out of the chair. Remus jumped back in surprise. "Severus?"  
  
Snape's face had a jaundiced cast to it, the skin drawn tightly to his sharp skull. The two unfocussed black eyes smoldered with fever and the corners of his red, swollen lids leaked mucus. Snape bared chattering teeth at Remus and pushed back a strand of hair with a shaking hand. The fingers were crusted with dark brown and leaked bright crimson drops - blood?! His nose twitched and told him what his exhausted brain had failed to notice.  
  
*********  
  
His movements had finally become too uncoordinated to control, and he collapsed into the chair at the desk. Waves of cold wracked his limbs and he felt his skin prickle and writhe as if bathed with ice. He gnawed at the skin on his fingers, an old habit, and took comfort in the raw pain.  
  
::I could get it from Olsley... he'd probably have needles too, and he's got good quality stuff... but he's expensive... Doiger? He owes me... but... no money, no money... Muggles. Cheaper, no wizards...::  
  
The door banged open.  
  
*******  
  
With a grunt, he lowered himself into the chair and took a swig of the mulled cider in his hipflask. Pausing for a moment, the old Auror savored the warmth of the crackling fire, rubbing scarred hands together as he extended his remaining foot towards the blaze. When all the cold aches had melted from his bones he took a pinch of floo powder and tossed it into the flames.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore!"  
  
A moment later the Headmaster's silvery head appeared in the fireplace. "Yes, Alastor, what can I do for you this fine evening?" Moody wasn't about to be fooled by the old wizard's innocent manner.  
  
"What's Snape doing in the Order Headquarters?" he queried. He'd warned the old man again and again about the shifty Death Eater traitor, and now he had the slimy git staying at the nucleus of the Order of the Phoenix. He scowled as Dumbledore answered.  
  
"Alastor, what can I do to convince you of Snape's value to the Order?"  
  
"Even if he is valuable at the moment, he's not loyal, Albus," Moody rasped, patiently presenting the facts once again. He had great respect for Dumbledore, but the ancient wizard was simply blind when it came to the slimy Death Eater. "As soon as a better deal comes along... well, once a traitor, always a traitor, and he'll have no qualms spilling Order secrets." Moody glared into the fire as the ancient wizard's blue eyes narrowed slightly before easing back to their usual benign gaze.  
  
"I understand your concerns, Alastor, and I appreciate your dedication to the cause. However, I must ask you to at least cease open hostilities towards Snape. If you have no further concerns, I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment." At Moody's reluctant nod, Dumbledore smiled. "Good evening, Alastor." The fire returned to its usual bright coppers and golds as the floo connection cut off.  
  
Moody respected Dumbledore too much to go directly against him, but knew beyond a doubt that Snape would be trouble. ::Well, Dumbledore hadn't said anything forbidding detailed surveillance of his little pet murderer...::  
  
*********  
  
"Severus?" ::It must be the... the drug. Didn't Poppy say something about him needing to keep taking it?:: The skin at the base of his skull prickled and he shivered involuntarily. ::How anyone could take that stuff and place themself in this situation...?:: "D'you need the.. the..." He couldn't say it, couldn't name the looming shame. ::Snape is a drug addict. Snape is a drug addict. Snape is - not who I thought he was.::  
  
Snape pushed himself shakily to his feet. "I - I - I'm g-g-going out," he rasped. He made it almost to the door before tripping on a fold in the threadbare rug and slamming face down on the floor. When he didn't move, Remus hurried over and hauled him back up. The blank, dead look in Snape's eyes slipped a knife of cold steel down his spine.  
  
"Look, Severus..." He paused for a moment as a disagreement raged inside him. He was exhausted, but if Snape left and didn't come back, it would destroy Dumbledore, and he owed the ancient wizard too much to allow that to happen. And if he made Snape stay here... what if he died? "If you want to go out, fine, but I'm coming with you." Snape turned and gazed searchingly into Remus' eyes, absently fingering the scrape on his chin.  
  
"P-put on Muggle c-clothes," he hissed before going to his trunk. Throwing the lid back, he tugged out a pair of black jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a long black Muggle trench coat while Remus watched in surprise. Snape was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his hairline, and his movements were disconnected, but he was filled with purpose.  
  
Remus wondered idly if he had come to a decision about something. The slamming of the washroom door startled him out of his reverie and he quickly transfigured his robes into trousers and a shirt.  
  
The washroom door opened. Snape looked undeniably skeletal without the concealing folds of wizarding robes. His limbs seemed to be almost too long for his body, too drawn to be constructs of flesh and blood. With his hair hanging lankly in his face and a thin trickle of blood running down his chin, he looked almost more like a ghoul than a wizard. He reached out a painfully thin arm and shakily grabbed the trench coat with tattered fingers.  
  
"Why are we going as Muggles?" Remus asked as he followed Snape to the door.  
  
Snape twitched. "Cheaper."  
  
*********  
  
Snape wrapped the trench coat tightly around himself as they slipped out of Grimmauld Place and into the balmy summer night.  
  
"Aren't you hot?" Remus whispered. Snape responded with a shaky sneer before glancing up and down the deserted Muggle street.  
  
"We need to g-get to Rudemerd Street," he whispered hoarsely. Remus watched in horrified fascination as Snape licked his lips, eyes glazing over with need. "Yes... yes..."  
  
"I'll apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron, okay, Severus... Snape? Snape!" The lanky wizard was staring absently, tremors shaking his black shrouded body.  
  
"Bankside..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"G-go to Banks-side." Snape shuddered. "South bank of of of t-the Thames, foot of the bridge..."  
  
"But Muggles-"  
  
"Forget th' bloody Muggles!" Snape gripped Remus' shirtfront, eyes rolling back in their sockets to reveal sickly pale tissue as he groaned in pain. "Just - please-"  
  
Remus felt a thrill of fear at the thought of Snape dying. "Okay, okay..." He could feel his heart pumping, his stomach nauseous at Snape's desperation. ::Did I help cause this...?:: He latched onto Snape's bony wrist and Apparated to the edge of Bankside.  
  
*********  
  
Snape stumbled into Remus' side as they landed on the rough, cracked asphalt of an abandoned lot. It was an indication of his state of mind that he didn't snarl at Remus for touching him. Remus quickly gained his footing and looked around.  
  
He had been here once before, but the night cloaked the dismally gray alleys in a brown gloom that seemed to lurk ominously against the grimy brick walls. The sodium yellow Muggle streetlamps glowing through the damp, heavy air were no match for the desolate darkness, Remus noted. He wrinkled his nose at the smoke tainted scent of garbage and unwashed bodies and took a step forward, jumping back into Snape as his foot came in contact with a rusted hunk of metal.  
  
"All right, Snape, we're here," Remus muttered, eyeing the looming tenements around them. Snape glared at his statement of the obvious, then hacked and spat before wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve.  
  
"Let's go," he muttered. Remus' stomach squirmed at the sight of the trail of mucus left across the black cloth, but he followed as Snape began walking unsteadily down a narrow, twisted alley.  
  
It wasn't long before the stifling air consumed Snape's figure in shadow, and Remus hurried to catch up, all former exhaustion wiped out by his nerves. The wolf stalked high on its toes, ears and nose twitching, hackles raised. Remus had learned long ago to be nervous when the wolf was cautious. He felt trapped, sensing more than seeing the brick walls leaning, leaning...  
  
The alleyway at first seemed empty, but as he adjusted to the gloom and the cramped, garbage-strewn street before him, he began to see furtive movement. A person snoring under a newspaper blanket, a scrawny cat shifting almost silently along a wall, and the skitter of rats reached his ears as he strained to pierce through the murky darkness and the disorienting sodium glow.  
  
Snape led Remus through the labyrinth of grimy back alleys and abandoned factories as if dragged along by the Imperious Curse. They passed islands of electric light pouring out the smells of alcohol and tobacco smoke, the raucous noise of late night drinkers spilling out with the light into the mist-dimmed streets. Remus started a few times as a Muggle automobile roared by, but Snape kept to his course.  
  
The narrow streets muffled and reverberated sound, mixing the wail of a baby in the tenements with the broken grunts of drunken argument or the yowl of a cat clattering through dustbins. Remus was beginning to feel more at ease when out of the stinging brown fog a raspy voice growled behind him. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Hermione, Ginny, and Ron looked at each other as the extendable ears slithered back up the stairs and to their landing. Hermione put a finger to her lips, motioning for the others to follow her back to the room she shared with Ginny. Once the door was closed, Ron burst with laughter.  
  
"Shoulda guessed ol' Snape was an alkie," he said between wheezes. "Wait 'till Harry hears-!" He broke off suddenly as a red-faced Hermione turned furiously to him.  
  
"Don't you understand what this could mean?! Ron, that 'alkie' has our lives in his hands! He's the Order's spy! If he were to get caught..." She left the sentence unfinished.  
  
Ginny nodded. "Hermione's right, Ron." She turned back to the other witch. "What d'you think we should do?"  
  
..................  
  
::The King's Head, Rufus Street.... The Broken Crown...:: A thrill of anticipation set his stomach on pins as he increased his speed. He felt drawn along, a miniscule silver fish pressed forward by unfathomable currents. A shiver of desire left his heart quivering and he almost began to run. A tiny part of him was horrified by his weakness, his lack of control, but it was drowned by the thirst gnawing at his skull.  
  
"Eh, Snape! Bring a frien', eh? 'E waun' sum smeck, too?"  
  
Snape's stomach squirmed, sick anticipation sparking through his nerves and lighting fire in his fingers. His teeth chattering in anticipation, he spun around.  
  
..................  
  
Remus jumped, his fraying nerves snapping as he turned to face a gap toothed smile. A sooty face under a greasy tweed cap had materialized out of the heavy shadows and Remus felt a tingling disgust. The man was of indeterminable age, his dirty clothing blending in with the grime-streaked walls.  
  
"Eh, Snape! Bring a frien', eh? 'E waun' sum smeck, too?"  
  
Remus felt a wave of nausea slide through his gut and creep cross his skin. "Absolutely not!"  
  
"Loivly, 'e is, Snape. Naw, wot kin I get ye?" The weedy man reached a hand into his pocket. Remus stared as Snape gazed transfixed upon the man's stubby, calloused hands.  
  
"Two, three days... worth..." Snape's breath caught and he licked his lips. "A-a-and a c-c-couple of of of needles...." Remus saw the man glance shrewdly at Snape from beneath his filthy cap.  
  
"Weeell, Snape, I'm a likkle low, mate. Tell yeh wot, mate, I'll give yeh four grems an' a needle fer six'y pounds, seein' as I know yeh frum way back."  
  
Remus didn't need to smell the man's duplicity to tell that he was cutting a sharp deal. Snape however, reached into his pocket and pulled out a curled up wad of limp bills, oblivious to the werewolf's seething distaste.  
  
"L-l-lupin, d'you 'ave any c-c-cash?"  
  
Remus turned to see Snape gazing desperately at him, sharp, sallow face pale in the gloom. Remus took a step back, bile rising in his gorge as the situation began to overwhelm him with heavy, electric waves of panic.  
  
"No!" He tried to take a deep breath but couldn't force the air past his lungs. "No, Snape, don't do this, don't do this..." His muscles itched to do something, anything, but he couldn't extract any air from the brown miasma surrounding him.  
  
Slumped against the rough, soot stained brick of the alley wall, he tried to catch his breath as Snape obediently, gratefully handed over a wad of cash in exchange for several small plastic bags of white powder.  
  
The relief and desire glittering in Snape's black eyes pushed Remus over the edge of disgust. Snape - arrogant, proud, independent Snape - left a desperate, helpless fool by a drug.  
  
The Snape Remus had harbored in his head for the last twenty-four years would never have let something so base control him, would never have stooped so low as to let a Muggle swindle him of his money.  
  
..................  
  
Snape felt the hot grip of desperate jealousy as Doiger wasted time talking to Lupin.  
  
"Absolutely not!" Snape felt shame trickle through his veins at Remus' horrified yelp. Gods, he had sunk so low even the werewolf was sickened by him.  
  
A moment later any rational thought was burned out by need as Doiger turned back to him. "Loively, 'e is, Snape. Naw, wot kin I get ye?" Snape found his gaze transfixed on Doiger's grubby hand as it drifted toward....  
  
"Two, three days... worth..." Snape could barely concentrate as his gut tightened unbearably with desire. "A-a-and a c-c-couple of-of-of needles...."  
  
"Weeell, Snape, I'm a likkle low, mate. Tell yeh wot, mate, I'll give yeh four grems an' a needle fer six'y pounds, seein' as I know yeh frum way back."  
  
Snape's heart lurched and he almost panicked as he fumbled through his coat pockets for his stash of Muggle money... Cold fire lanced up his arm as his fingers found it. Not enough, not enough... In desperation he turned to the werewolf. "L-l-lupin, d'you 'ave any c-c-cash?"  
  
The werewolf stepped back in disgust. "No!" Shame blazed into anger in Snape's chest as Remus continued. "No, Snape, don't do this, don't do this..." Stupid beast didn't understand what was going on, what was at stake. He turned back to Doiger, who's eyes shifted nervously between the two of them.  
  
"'Ow much d'yeh 'ave, Snape?" Snape's fingers shook as he counted out bills. fifty-five pounds, not enough, not enough... "Look, Snape, keep yer frien' away frum 'ere. I'll give yeh th' four fer yer fif' five, but dun' bring 'im out 'ere agin, eh?" The sooty face was drawn tight with anxiety as he glanced at the groaning werewolf. Relief left Snape weak kneed and his fingers curled and uncurled around the now sweaty bills.  
  
"Okay, okay... 'ere ye go, 'and it over...!" Snape felt ready to burst with need, sweat streaming down his face as his bones ached for the sweet sting of the needle. Doiger pulled out the heroin and fished a capped needle from somewhere in his jacket.  
  
"Awroight, Snape." Doiger muttered as he melted back into the gloom. Snape's attention was riveted on the small plastic bags filled with fine white powder and he barely noticed the hurried footsteps echoing through the dank alleyway.  
  
..................  
  
Remus watched Snape stare at the powdered drug in his hand, and was almost floored by a sudden torrent of hate? pity? towards the shadowed figure. His chest seemed to shrink around his swelling lungs as the full force of the lie that Snape was hit him.  
  
This wasn't the boy he had known, the man he had grown to reluctantly respect. That was a shadow, a dark construct dancing in a mad parody of reality in Remus' head. This - this was not - this was - Anger gritted Remus' teeth.  
  
"How could you just do that, Snape?! Do you have any sense of self respect?" When he got no response, he shoved Snape's shoulder. The gaunt wizard stumbled backward before turning with a growl.  
  
"What th' fuck do ye know?!" Spit flew from the furious wizard's mouth. "Ye're nothin'! Ye're bloody worthless! Ye want teh talk ter me abou' worth?! Ye're Dumbledore's soddin' charity case, fer Merlin's sake! 'e sends ye on bloody 'opeless missions to keep ye busy an' out o' everyone else's 'air, ya bloody fucked up sewer filth!" He launched himself at Remus, managing to topple him, but after a few seconds of furious scuffling on the cold, dirty cobblestones they were startled by a bucket of soapy water.  
  
"Shut th' bloody 'ell up down thar!" A hoarse screech echoed from above. Remus heard the rattling slam of loose shutters as he tried to catch his breath and calm down. Fighting in the street like children - was that what it all came down to? Wiping water out of his eyes, he muttered a drying charm and looked around for Snape.  
  
He was leaning against the dingy wall, the dirty ochre fog blurring his face. He seemed to be searching frantically for something.  
  
"Severus?" At the sound of his name, Snape's head shot up, and with a silent snarl he took off down the alley, the wet hem of his trench coat snapping behind him. "Snape! Wait!"  
  
Remus hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the bruises where he landed on the grimy cobblestones, and took off after Snape. Greasy puddles splashed at his feet and dumpsters loomed out of the fog as he scrambled across cracked pavement.  
  
With an almost tangible change in air pressure, he burst out of the alleyway and onto a street. A huge blast of sound and light sent him reeling, and he stepped hastily back onto the sidewalk and out of the way of Muggle automobiles. Across the street he saw Snape disappear into a crowded pub.  
  
..................  
  
He had it - he had it in his hands -  
  
"How could you just do that, Snape?! Do you have any sense of self respect?" Snape barely registered the werewolf's mounting anger until he shoved his shoulder. The precious drug almost slipped from his fingers as he turned in fury, fueled by an icy shame at his lack of control over the heroin.  
  
"What th' fuck do ye know?! Ye're nothin'! Ye're bloody worthless! Ye want teh talk ter me abou' worth?! Ye're Dumbledore's soddin' charity case, fer Merlin's sake!" All his own venomous insecurities boiled up from his gut, a pressure at the back of his throat he refused to acknowledge. "'e sends ye on bloody 'opeless missions to keep yer sorry carcass out o' everyone else's 'air, ya bloody fucked up sewer dreck!"  
  
The pressure in his chest and throat exploded outward and he leapt at Lupin, knocking the bigger man off his feet. Kicking and biting, dirty grit from the street jamming under his scrabbling fingernails, Snape fought until a sudden deluge of soapy water from above blinded him.  
  
For a moment he saw Potter, laughing as he shoved Snape's head into a bucket full of water and scrubbed his scalp with lye soap, but mind consuming need dragged him back to the present. Leaning against the tenement wall, he searched frantically through the gloom. There, mercifully dry, glowed the white powder. A foot further lay the cheap insulin needle. Grabbing both, he shoved them into his pocket.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
The sound grabbed his ear, painfully sharp through the heavy gloom. ::He knows...:: He was running, carried on a wave of hot shame.  
  
"Snape! Wait!" Pounding footsteps behind him. With a jerk, he broke free of the alley and into the false sodium suns of the streetlamps haloed by smoky fog. All he needed was a pub where he could use the sink and mix up a shot -  
  
He dodged a car and slipped into the crushed anonymity of a bar.  
  
..................  
  
Remus waited until the way was clear and crossed the slick, oily asphalt to the pub spilling gritty light and drunk patrons onto the pavement. Sidling through the crowd, Remus saw Snape's black clad form disappear through a door marked 'Gents'. Remus managed to get to the door and haul it open.  
  
The cramped room beyond had once been white, but most of the tiles had cracked and fallen to expose the dark gray cement beneath. A urinal hung suspended by its pipes against one wall, and against the other wall, two stalls held toilets. The graffiti scrawled across the black Formica was interrupted by a missing stall door.  
  
At a tiny, cramped sink stood Snape, worrying his lower lip with his crooked teeth as he worked furtively with his bony hands. In one hand he held a Muggle cigarette lighter, and in the other a small vial half filled with tap water.  
  
Setting down the lighter on the sink, Snape took a measured a pinch of powder from one of the small plastic bags. After carefully dropping the pinch into the vial, he licked his fingers and picked up the lighter.  
  
Remus watched with a strange fascination as Snape flicked on the lighter and began heating the liquid. A thin, tingling smell rose from the vial and Remus could almost feel the air crackle with Snape's tension. Remus stared as Snape took the needle off of the syringe, carefully poured every drop of the liquid into the syringe before screwing the needle back on.  
  
A quiet sound dragged Remus' eyes from Snape's hands to find Snape watching him with dead black eyes.  
  
"Wha' th' bloody fuck are ye doin' 'ere?!" Snape's voice ripped from his throat. "So, Lupin... So, you've come to watch me 'umiliate myself?" he spat. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and he dashed it angrily away with his sleeve, and a quiet whine slipped through his teeth before be bit his lip again, adding a fresh line of bright blood to the cut on his chin.  
  
Remus felt a lump rise in his own throat as he watched. "Snape, why don't you just stop-" The door behind him suddenly swung open, cracking him on the back of his head as a large, sweaty man in a stained shirt stumbled in, unzipping his fly. Remus' sight swam with tiny points of black light for a moment before his vision cleared.  
  
Snape had shrunk into the doorless cubicle and unbuttoned his sleeve cuff. In the light of the single naked bulb hanging from its wires in the ceiling, Snape's porcelain white skin was blotched by ugly yellow and purple bruises. The long tracks of injection scars stood out starkly against the hemorrhaged flesh. Before Remus could say another word, Snape slipped the needle into the blue veined skin of his wrist.  
  
Snape wobbled slightly, eyes half closing as a smile bared his snag teeth. Remus stepped quickly out of the way as the big, dirty Muggle pushed back out into the noisy pub. A hot squirming in Remus' stomach left him ill as he turned back to Snape and watched him fall under the effects of the heroin.  
  
"Oh, Severus, why do you do this?" He caught the skinny wizard as he half stepped, half fell forward. The thick musk of sweat coated Snape's usual smell of damp rock and singed herbs, and the sickly sweet tang of the narcotic stung Remus' nose. Snape didn't step back, but instead leaned in closer.  
  
"Lupinnn..." Remus turned his face away from Snape's sour breath and crooked smile. "Lupin... Remusss...Remuslup'n..."  
  
"Snape-" Remus felt ridiculously self conscious, standing in the washroom with his arms full of another man. "Snape-!" The other wizard was pressing closer, forcing Remus backward. Remus let go of Snape and let him slither to the floor, a beatific smile still pasted lopsidedly on his thin face.  
  
"Where y' goin', Reem S'lup'n? Heh, S'loopin, tha's a funny name...heh heh..." Snape leaned against the wall, head lolling disconnectedly on his shoulders. "'s a loopy name... hah, fer a loopy loopy werewol'...." Snape half sung the words.  
  
Remus stared, dumbstruck. A minute before, the man had been a shivering bundle of nerves, and now he was lying on the dirty floor, laughing and singing nonsense.  
  
::There's a reason for that,:: he told himself angrily. ::He's relaxed because he's s stoned out of his bloody mind!:: A small part of him wanted to lash out and kick Snape for being so much trouble, for making Remus' life even more difficult than it had been. "Damn you, Snape."  
  
Taking deep breaths, Remus tried to quiet his roiling stomach. He felt a heavy guilt at his angry thoughts, and a not so insignificant twinge of fear. Violence was the wolf, not Remus. Only the wolf. ::Focus on helping, not hurting.:: After a moment, he knelt down in front of Snape.  
  
"Hey, Severus? I'm gonna Apparate us back to Headquarters." Snape blinked owlishly at him. "Give me your hand, Severus."  
  
"Where're they...?" Snape shifted his arms slightly, as if they were weighted down.  
  
"At the ends of your arms, Snape!" Sighing, Remus reached out and grabbed one of Snape's hands, prickly discomfort itching along his spine. Snape's hand was very hot and slightly moist with sweat.  
  
Remus closed his eyes and with conscious effort blocked out his surroundings. His last thought before he apparated was that Snape was singing again.  
  
..................  
  
They landed in a slumped pile on the cracked pavement in front of Grimmauld Place. Remus pushed himself up and dusted off his transfigured Muggle clothes before turning around and looking for Snape.  
  
The black clad wizard lay sprawled across the still warm pavement and Remus felt a spike of panic until he saw Snape move slightly. "Snape?" He paused. "Can you-?" A low, half-choked laugh shook Snape's bony frame. "Snape?"  
  
"Whatta rush..." Snape mumbled.  
  
"What?" He kneeled over the still prone wizard, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Snape, can you get up?" When he got no response he hooked his hands under Snape's arms and hoisted him off the cement. He took a step backward as Snape slumped against his chest, but managed not to trip over the curb. Glancing up and down the deserted street he whispered "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," and the Muggle townhouses shifted aside to make room for the foreboding bulk of the Black mansion.  
  
"Okay, Snape," he grunted as he tried to get a better grip on Snape's limp body, "can you stand?" When he got no coherent response, Remus sighed and with a grunt shifted Snape and managed to sling him over his shoulder into a fireman's grip.  
  
The dark haired man muttered something into his back, but Remus was too busy feeling his tired spine threatening to telescope under the added weight to pay any attention. With another grunt he staggered through the rusty gate and up to the door, opening it awkwardly with his wand in his left hand.  
  
It was with a sense of relief that Remus stepped into the stuffy, musty old air of the front corridor and saw old Mrs. Black dozing in her frame. He set Snape down on one of the dusty chairs and lit the hall dimly with a whispered "lumos."  
  
Snape watched him through half lidded eyes, a strange smile tugging at his face. Remus felt a tired spark of anger. "What's so funny?" he growled softly. Snape's grin widened.  
  
"Th' eye... oh, th' eye... heh heh, 'e caught us, 'e caught us... an' ye kicked it..."  
  
Anxious to get to the relative safety of his rooms, Remus glanced at the snoring portrait and tried to humor Snape. "Fine, then, Severus. Mobilicorpus." Snape threw his head back and laughed as he rose disjointedly into the air.  
  
"Shhh!" Remus glanced frantically at the portrait on the wall, fear flooding his muscles as the painted eyes flickered. "Snape! Shut it!" he hissed, dread looming over him. If Snape was seen in this condition...  
  
With a flick of his wand, he silenced Snape and it was with great relief that he saw Mrs. Black shift in her frame but not wake up. With a last quick glance, Remus began creeping up to his rooms, careful to avoid creaks and tricky boards.  
  
As they disappeared up the stairs, an electric blue eye rolled silently back down the corridor and disappeared into the shadows. 


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Many small delays grew into one very long delay in posting this chapter. In apology, this one is extra long.  
  
_**Chapter Fifteen**_  
  
Ron sat on the edge of Ginny's bed, picking at the coverlet and shooting unhappy glances at his sister and Hermione. The two witches had relegated him to the other side of the small room when he had been unable to stop laughing, and he was downright angry at their inability to see the humor in the situation. Just the thought of ugly, greasy old Snape desperately fantasizing over a bottle of Ogden's Old while he swept around his classroom snapping at hapless students....  
  
"What's so funny?!" Hermione whispered furiously. Ron hunched over, pale skin turning crimson with repressed laughter.  
  
"This's so bloody hilarious!" Ron could no longer contain his mirth. "Can you just see Snape, totally smashed at some big Order dinner, passing out at the table?!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Honestly, can't you see this is serious? Professor Snape has to be able to fool Voldemort- " Ron cringed at the name. "Oh, grow up, Ronald Weasley!"  
  
"I am, Hermione! You didn't grow up hearing about You-Know-Who! Besides, you heard Moody - Snape's probably just waiting for the opportunity to turn us all in."  
  
"Ron!" Hermione's voice was sharp with annoyance. "If you can't keep quiet or at least be reasonable, go somewhere else!"  
  
"It's not my fault you have no sense of humor, Hermione," he grumbled. "What are you two whispering about, anyway?"  
  
"We are trying to think of a way to help Professor Snape, Ron." Hermione replied with a pointed look.  
  
"Why?" Ron was truly mystified. What was it with girls and always having to stick their noses into other people's business? Ginny rolled her eyes.  
  
"Ron, you idiot, think for a moment. If Snape gets caught, the Order loses its spy. If the Order loses its spy, we're at a disadvantage. If we're at a disadvantage, You-Know-Who might win." Ginny spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a small child. Ron bristled.  
  
"We don't even know if he's really on our side, Gin! I mean, really, he's such a git-" Hermione stilled him with a glare. "He is, Hermione! And you heard Moody, we can't trust Snape for a moment."  
  
"Oh, shut up, Ron." His sister turned away and muttered something under her breath to Hermione.  
  
"What was that, Ginerva Weasley?!" Ron jumped up from the cot, face flushing. He was about to spring on his sister when his mother opened the door.  
  
Mrs. Weasley took one look at the impending brawl and screeched, "RONALDWEASLEYDON'TYOUDARE!!" When three startled faces had turned toward her, she huffed and continued in a quieter voice. "Well, really. I would have thought better of you two, at almost fifteen and sixteen years of age." Her offspring wilted at her glare. "It's high time you three were in bed. Ron, I believe your room is across the hall?" Mrs. Weasley stood pointedly to the side of the open door, and Ron dragged himself out with a last angry look at Ginny and Hermione.  
  
"G'night, Ron," Hermione said softly.  
  
"G'night."  
  
Mrs. Weasley gave both Ginny and Hermione a kiss on the forehead and an admonition to brush their teeth before she gently closed the door. They waited until they heard the Weasley matriarch climb the stairs to the third floor before continuing to talk.  
  
...........................  
  
Heavy, thick darkness, terrifyingly absolute. Turgid summer heat...  
  
Boom. Boom. Boom.  
  
A zing of fear sizzled through his nerves and he leapt off the floor, or at least tried to - the gelatinous air slowed his movements and the floor tipped steadily to his left, upsetting his balance. He stumbled, the world suddenly hugely empty around him. Echoes slid into his head, scraping across bone as ice gathered along his fingers and toes, heavy, heavy...  
  
Boom. Boom. Boom.  
  
Not again - not again! The floor shifted beneath him and he fell against something hard. Liquid was dripping down his brow, between his shoulder blades... blood, blood... Was it his? Was it his own blood, or someone else's? A massive numbness filled him as his hands began to shake.  
  
...........................  
  
Remus started awake when something crashed into the desk under the window. Fumbling for his wand, he shouted "Lumos!"  
  
Snape stood in the middle of the floor, gasping and shaking as sweat streamed down his face and darkened the Muggle shirt clinging to his back.  
  
"Snape?" Remus pushed himself groggily from the bed, vaguely surprised to find his shoes still on his feet. The gaunt wizard shrank away from him, blinking furiously. "Snape? What's wrong?"  
  
"Blood - blood!" Snape scrubbed furiously at his face. Remus flicked his wand and lit the whole room before moving to peer closely at him.  
  
"There's no blood, Severus," he said quietly.  
  
"N - no! It's -" Snape moaned. "Everywhere -"  
  
"Where is it, Severus?" Remus asked awkwardly. He felt as if his limbs had been frozen, movement suspended by the bizarrity of the situation. "I don't think you're bleeding, Sev-" Snape suddenly flinched.  
  
"Wha - wha's thet sound?!" Snape whispered fearfully.  
  
Remus slowly stepped away from him, a twitch of hollow anxiety worming through his gut.  
  
"There wasn't any sound, Severus," he replied, the static lump of surreality beginning to vibrate behind his eyes. Snape cocked his head as if to catch a fleeting noise. Was he hallucinating?  
  
From where Remus stood, he couldn't smell anything from Snape but sour, salty sweat shot through with cold, bitter threads of fear. "Severus, sit down for a moment," Remus cajoled, reaching out a tentative hand.  
  
"No! D-don't touch me!" Snape shrunk backward, stumbling against the overturned desk chair and falling with a crash against the wall. ::Well, _now _he's bleeding,:: a voice muttered in his head. Gritting his teeth, Remus knelt beside the shaking wizard. ::Remember, this is partly your fault,:: he growled at himself.  
  
Snape had cut a shallow gash over his eye against the edge of the desk. A thick trickle of blood oozed down the line of his cheek and along the side of his prominent nose, bisecting his face. For a moment, Remus had the unsettling impression that Snape's head had been cracked in two by the blow.  
  
"Severus?" Remus waved a hand in front of Snape's eyes. The dark haired wizard blinked slowly.  
  
"G'way," Snape whispered. At Snape's continued refusal, the dam of Remus' patience broke and a cold flood of frustrated exhaustion swept through him.  
  
"Fine, Snape. Have it your way." He knew he should do more, should check to see if Snape was injured any further, but his eyelids were no longer able to hold the weight of sleep from his eyes. Besides, if he tried to help, the ungrateful wretch would probably...  
............................  
  
The dusty sunlight streaming through the window lit his eyelids a burning, fiery red. He tried to roll away from the light but his muscles seized, pulling at his brittle bones until he gasped with pain. ::No - not again...:: He couldn't remember much beyond confused images of a filthy back alley, a crowded bar, a dingy public restroom... Ice-cold disbelief curled in his stomach. Surely those were just old memories...? He wasn't - he hadn't - His blood throbbed through his skull with pulverizing force and he began trembling with stiff tension as memories and thoughts jittering through his conscious. ::Merlin, I need a drink.::  
  
Eyes still tightly closed, he managed to lever himself off the floor with shaking arms and make it halfway to standing before another shock of cold stiffened his muscles and he stumbled and fell to his knees with a dull thud. Blackness began to creep along the edges of his consciousness and he leaned back against the wall.  
  
Sleep, or some semblance thereof, was about to claim him when he shifted and something poked him in the side. Horrified disbelief spiked through his aching brain as his hand drifted of its own accord to his pocket. The feel of slick plastic bags against his fingertips sent a shock of heated, roiling desire straight to his gut.  
  
::No, no, no...::  
  
He could feel his heart beating frantically against his ribs, pumping heated gravel through his veins.  
  
::Don't do it - ::  
  
He bit the inside of his lip against the hovering nausea and buzzing, thirsty need as he lurched to his feet and stumbled toward the kitchen.  
  
He stepped into the kitchen, gripping the doorframe.  
  
::Weak, weak, weak...::  
  
He licked cracked lips with a dry tongue, a sudden wave of swirling nausea forcing him to lean forward against the counter.  
  
::Can't :control: yourself?::  
  
The dark little kitchen rotated slowly around him, fading and coming into sharp focus before edges smudged again.  
  
::Look, ol' Snivelly can't even...::  
  
He screwed his eyes shut against the - hothothotneedtotakeitnow - fist twisting his gut with sweet - ohMerlinplease - need to feel the beautiful calm emptiness push away the cold, hard truth of reality.  
  
::Reject his own...::  
  
Why even bother fighting it? I'm going to die soon, anyway... who cares?  
  
::No willpower...::  
  
But - it feels so good... Safe... calm...  
  
::Not even worth resisting: you couldn't even if you tried, and I know you - you won't, you little...::  
  
A hot sludge of anger and grief thundered through him.  
  
No! I'm not going to -  
  
I can't -  
  
Because...  
  
::"Need I say I am very disappointed with your behavior, Severus?"::  
  
Because...  
  
::"Just don't let it happen again, Mr. Snape."::  
  
It's not real -  
  
NO!!!  
  
...........................  
  
"Aaargh!"  
  
A scream and the sound of breaking glass jolted him awake, and he fell off the cot in a tangle of sheets. "What the - ?" He winced as another crash sounded from the tiny kitchen. "Severus?"  
  
It took him a moment to untangle himself from the bed sheets and take the two steps across the cramped sitting room, but at the doorway of the kitchen he stopped. Much of the china and glassware that had been on the stained countertop was now strewn across the cracked tiles of the kitchen floor. Snape was leaning heavily over the tiny sink, head bowed and greasy black hair obscuring his face.  
  
Remus was about to step through the doorway when, with another furious yell, Snape swept the remaining glassware from the counter, hands spraying droplets of blood from cuts glittering with glass splinters.  
  
"Merlin at the Stake, Snape!" Remus gasped. "What the bloody hell are you doing-?"  
  
Snape jerked his head, lank strands of hair whipping across blank black eyes sunk deep into the bruised flesh of their sockets. His pale face was darkly shadowed with stubble and thick, rusty blood crusted the gash over his eye. With a wordless snarl he turned on the faucet, ripped something out of his pocket and tore it open. Fine white powder spilled into the discolored porcelain sink and was quickly swept away by the stream of water.  
  
Snape stood before the running sink, scraps of a small plastic bag crushed in shaking, bloody hands. After a moment he leaned back against the kitchen wall, head bent and shoulders hunched forward. Remus stood perfectly still at the doorway, too stunned to move.  
  
A sudden knock at the door shook Remus out of his frozen state.  
  
"Remus? Severus? Is everything all right?" The door muffled Molly Weasley's voice. Remus didn't see Snape crumple to the floor as he turned and hurried to answer the Weasley matriarch.  
  
He cracked the door open to see Molly standing in the dark corridor, a worried expression on her kind face.  
  
"Hey, Mrs. Weasley," he greeted her, a hopefully normal expression plastered to his face. He could feel it slip a little as she frowned and tried to peer around the door.  
  
"I heard breaking glass. What happened? Are you and Severus all right?"  
  
"Uh, a cup slipped out of my hands. I was making tea, you know, and - "  
  
Molly gave him a dubious look. "I raised seven children, young man, and you're not fooling me one bit! Now, what is going on in there?"  
  
"Um -"  
  
Mrs. Weasley suddenly pulled back, a scandalized expression on her face. "Mr. Lupin, do you two have Company?!"  
  
"Er -"  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, how kind of you to stop by." Remus started at Snape's collected tones. He glanced over his shoulder to see Snape next to him, behind the door and out of view of Mrs. Weasley. Snape continued, voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm afraid I knocked a couple of glasses off the counter: fortunately it was nothing I couldn't fix with a few charms. Now, if you will excuse us, I'm not decent." With a shove, Snape slammed the door in Mrs. Weasley's startled face before sagging to the floor, back against the door.  
  
"B-but - you don't have a wand!" Remus exclaimed, his still half- asleep mind grasping onto the least dangerous straw it could find.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you babbling about, Lupin?" Snape leaned his head back against the splintery wood of the door and closed his eyes. Remus noted that he cut over Snape's eye had reopened and was seeping a slow trickle of blood.  
  
"You couldn't have fixed those glasses, you have no wand!" Remus repeated.  
  
"If you are going to worry at inconsequential bits of trivia like a dog - excuse me, wolf - at a bone, I shall be forced to ignore you." Snape's voice was fading to a hoarse croak and he shut his eyes tightly against the early morning light beginning to stream through the window. Remus could see the muscles and tendons of Snape's neck working with repressed emotion.  
  
"But - are you okay? I mean -" Remus nodded toward the little kitchen.  
  
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to finish your sentences, Lupin? Or was she too busy trying to keep you from chasing sticks and howling at the moon?" Despite the heavy rasp of the words in his throat, Snape managed to inject his tone with most of its usual waspish vitriol.  
  
Remus forced down the time muted sense of sorrow at the thought of his mother, but was unable to keep a bitter edge out of his voice. "Don't change the subject, Severus." Remus could see Snape's eyes roll beneath their lids.  
  
"Did I hit a sore spot, /Moony/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" Remus gritted his teeth. ::I'm taking this from the man who told Poppy Pomfrey that, contrary to all evidence, he was neither drinking nor taking drugs?!::  
  
"I suppose that explains why I just saw you pouring heroin down the kitchen sink," Remus spat back. Snape sat perfectly still for several moments. A sudden cold cloud of ascorbic fear and sour shame saturated the air and Remus' nose twitched. He immediately regretted his words and was about to apologize when Snape hissed at him, effectively curing him of any such notion.  
  
"Remind me to check the Wolfsbane for any hallucinatory side effects, Lupin: you're clearly delusional."  
  
Remus shut his mouth with a snap. "You're bloody sick, Snape. You really need help, you know that?" He could feel exhaustion beating down on him, dragging at his leaden limbs. "Look, Severus, I'm sorry -"  
  
"Fuck off, Lupin," Snape grated, fists clenching and bloodshot eyes flying open. ::Will he never stop?!:: Remus felt his anger flare again, fueled by sleeplessness and the other man's unceasing antagonism. His next words slipped loose before his tired mind could rein in his tongue.  
  
"What, no witty comeback? Did I hit a sore spot, /Snivellus/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" He suddenly felt wired by his own daring, electrified by the words he normally kept firmly shut away. Snape snarled.  
  
"You - you - " Snape looked on the verge of combustion and the rational side of Remus was horrified with his comments toward him. Those were the sort of things other people said, not kindly, considerate, put - up - with - hell - because - he - bloody - well - owes - everyone - else Remus J. Lupin. ::All right - I'm going to try this one more time...::  
  
"Look, Severus, we both need some sleep -" He stepped hastily back as Snape lurched clumsily to his feet.  
...........................  
  
::What have I done? What have I done?!:: He felt as if something inside of him was swirling down the drain with the pearly narcotic. ::No - it's not real -:: He slid down the wall. The handles on the cabinet tugged at his thin Muggle shirt and scraped coldly at the skin on his back, but he felt it no more than he felt the faint sting of glass shards in his hands and imbedded in the soles of his feet.  
  
"Remus? Severus? Is everything all right?" Molly Weasley's voice seemed garbled, as if he had his head underwater. He felt the vibrations of Lupin's feet as he hurried to answer the door.  
  
"Hey, Mrs. Weasley." Lupin's morning cheer sounded forced, and Snape huddled closer in on himself. Eyes closed, he became suddenly aware of the sensation of the cotton weave of his shirt along his arms and back, of his cool, sweaty brow pressed against his forearms. He floated, empty and hollow, a shell of pain enclosing nothing...  
  
Lupin was still chattering inanely with the Weasley Matriarch. ::Damn bloody werewolf, so bloody patronizing... does he think she's an idiot?!:: With a grunt he hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, leaning against the doorframe until the worst of the dizziness passed.  
  
He could hear Mrs. Weasley's skepticism grow with each of the werewolf's fumbles and half-truths. ::Damnit, Lupin, is that the best you can come up with?:: He slitted his eyes against the light of the morning sun just beginning to slip over the rooftops of Muggle London and took a step. Exhaustion and strain suffused his muscles with a chilly tingle, weakening his limbs.  
  
Snape finally made it to the door, keeping carefully out of Mrs. Weasley's sight. He knew he looked a wreck. "Mrs. Weasley, how kind of you to stop by." He fought the urge to clear his throat. "I'm afraid I knocked a couple of glasses off the counter: fortunately it was nothing I couldn't fix with a few charms. Now, if you will excuse us, I'm not decent." He leaned against the door and shut it before Mrs. Weasley could ask any more questions.  
  
"B-but - you don't have a wand!"  
  
"What the bloody hell are you babbling about, Lupin?"  
  
"You couldn't have fixed those glasses, you have no wand!" Snape sighed.  
  
"If you are going to worry at inconsequential bits of trivia like a dog - excuse me, wolf - at a bone, I shall be forced to ignore you." A dull, throbbing ache was beginning in his bones and he wished the werewolf would leave him alone to stew privately in his misery.  
  
"But - are you okay? I mean -" Lupin's tired, tentative, touchy- feely voice grated across Snape's nerves like steel on flint. He didn't need anything from the damn werewolf, didn't need his patronizing, snicker- behind-a-hand bloody fucking ::attitude::. He was a fully grown wizard: he didn't have to put up with that kind of crap anymore. Except... he didn't have a wand. Damn werewolf, can't even bloody well speak proper English.  
  
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to finish your sentences, Lupin? Or was she too busy trying to keep you from chasing sticks and howling at the moon?"  
  
"Don't change the subject, Severus."  
  
"Oh, did I hit a sore spot, /Moony/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?"  
  
"I suppose that explains why I just saw you pouring heroin down the kitchen sink." Snape froze, his organs rearranging themselves in his chest. ::He saw me...:: A moment passed before he could come up with a suitable retort.  
  
"Remind me to check the Wolfsbane for any hallucinatory side effects, Lupin: you're clearly delusional."  
  
He winced as the werewolf's jaws snapped -bloody broken bones- audibly together before Lupin responded. "You're bloody sick, Snape. You really need help, you know that?" There was a pause, and then he continued. "Look, Severus, I'm sorry -"  
  
"Fuck off, Lupin," he snarled, finally opening his eyes. Heavy, angry heat was fighting the cotton that stuffed his skull. He didn't need help from anyone, least of all that lousy, no good werewolf - he was completely in control of everything - who did he think he was?  
  
"What, no witty comeback? Did I hit a sore spot, /Snivellus/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" Helpless anger thundered through Snape at having his own words hurled back at him, and he snarled in impotent rage at his lack of control over the situation.  
  
"You - you - " He was sick and tired of this, tired of his emotions being so strong and raw, sick of simply being aware of his shame, his weak humiliation. He felt a shiver of disgust at himself and resisted the urge to sob at his complete lack of control over his own thrice-damned life.  
  
::Why am I doing this? Why am I even trying to break loose?:: It wasn't worth the pain, the raw vulnerability, the sensitivity - he could just sink back into the warm, safe stupor. There wasn't any point in fighting it, when all the battle got him was this drear, hopeless, antagonistic reality.  
  
::Why should I have to feel this way?:: A good, stiff drink would go a good way toward fixing things and soothe his aching emptiness. Why was he sitting there, miserable, when he could easily numb out the world?  
  
::Why the bloody hell did I wash that heroin down the sink?!:: He could just shoot up and this would all go away for a while, Dumbledores and Dark Lords and patronizing werewolves be damned. It would be so easy... ::I should have more in my coat pocket...::  
  
"Look, Severus, we both need some sleep -" The werewolf stepped back as Snape struggled to his feet, an overwhelming anger dragging at his bones like a magnet bending heated metal bars.  
  
"Shut up! SHUT UP, DAMNIT!" He could feel himself spitting with the force of his words. The room darkened and dropped out from under his throbbing feet.  
..............................  
  
Remus stepped forward and caught Snape as he fell. "Severus..." Cold, numbing exhaustion sucked at his limbs, and Snape's body was a hot, bony weight in his arms.  
  
"Let. Go. Of. Me." Snape hissed into the front of Remus' sleep rumpled shirt. The futility of attempting to help Snape bit at Remus' tired mind and he let Snape slide to the floor.  
  
"Fine, Snape. I'm going back to bed. I suggest you do the same." ::Time to take care of yourself,:: he thought, and wasn't sure if he was thinking of himself or of the dark haired wizard kneeling on the worn wood planks of the floor.  
  
...................................  
  
"And then, would you believe it, that man slammed the door in my face! If he had been one of my children..." Molly Weasley scrubbed furiously at a stubborn spot of grease on a frying pan. Tonks shared a glance with Bill Weasley, who rolled his eyes and smiled back. They shared a suspicion about Snape's and Lupin's relationship.  
  
"...half a mind to go back up there and..." Molly's voice floated in and out of the rattle of dishes and the rasp of the scrubbing brush before with a huff she tossed them down in a splash of sudsy water and waved her wand at them. They immediately stood back up and continued scrubbing on their own. "Does anyone want tea?"  
  
"It's all right, Mum, I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it," Bill said softly. He knew how he would feel if someone barged in on him when he was in a compromising position. Tonks shot him an amused smile. "Tea sounds great," he quickly added as Molly glared and shook the teapot at him.  
  
"Good. A pot of tea will help us all calm down. Tonks?"  
  
"Yes, please, Mrs. Weasley." Tonks seemed to be unaware of the fact that her hair was Weasley red and freckles were dusting across her nose. Bill held back a snort of amusement. Molly Weasley tended to have the effect of making people feel like her children.  
  
Molly pulled out one of the battered chairs and sat with a sigh. The early morning light filtering through the high, dirty windows left her face in shadows. "Those two..." Bill could tell that something was bothering her beyond what she was telling them.  
  
"What's really bothering you, Mum?" Bill prompted as he stood to take the whistling kettle off the fire and grab three teacups. Tonks sat forward in her chair.  
  
"Oh, nothing, really. They're grown men, they can take care of themselves," Molly waved her hand dismissively. Bill could see Tonks bite the inside of her cheek, and he had to repress the desire to laugh.  
  
"Mum, you never think anyone's grown up, or that they can take care of themselves." Molly busied herself filling teacups, although the tea had barely had a chance to steep.  
  
"It's just that - well..." Her eyes suddenly glinted. "Honestly, I know they're up to something. Our home would never have survived the twins if I wasn't able to tell when someone was hiding something!" Molly banged the table in frustration. "Severus... I've never liked that man, to tell the truth, no matter what Albus says. And poor Remus, stuck sharing those rooms with him, as if there wasn't plenty of room in this blasted house-!" Bill raised a placating hand.  
  
"Would you like me to try and see if I can find out what's going on?" Molly looked gratefully at him and patted his cheek.  
  
"You were always so helpful, Bill," she said briskly before turning cheerfully back to the now clean pots and pans. "Tonks, dear, would you help me cast some last drying charms on these?"  
  
..................................................  
  
::It's not real... it's not real...: He bit his hand and tried to think of something else, but he was consumed by the dry, empty heat of thirst throbbing through his ribcage. He bit down harder as a lance of frigid ice slammed through his skull and receded, swinging back to gather strength for the next cranial assault.  
  
What he really needed was a drink - a stiff gin, or even firewhiskey. Stupid bloody teetotalling werewolf...  
  
...........................................  
  
The stairs creaked under his unsteady footsteps, and he grasped the handrail, his other hand pressed against the dingy wallpaper of the stairwell. He almost tripped as he reached the first landing, foot jarring on the level floor.  
  
"It's just that - well... Honestly, I know they're up to something." Molly Weasley. Damn. "Our home would never have survived the twins if I wasn't able to tell when someone was hiding something!" Snape felt the earth slide slightly beneath his feet. "Severus... I've never liked that man, to tell the truth, no matter what Albus says. And poor Remus, stuck sharing those rooms with him, as if there weren't plenty of empty rooms in this blasted house-!"  
  
::Oh, yes, poor werewolf, let's feel sorry for /him/ all the time, because he's so wonderful and sweet and everyone /likes/ him, never mind that he's an irresponsible, dangerous, ravening beast half the time...::  
  
"Would you like me to try and see if I can find out what's going on?" Bill Weasley. As long as they stayed in the kitchen, he should be able to slip through the door unnoticed...  
  
"You were always so helpful, Bill," Mrs. Weasley gushed. "Tonks, dear, would you help me cast some last drying charms on these?"  
  
Catching his breath at the creak of a floorboard, Snape slid his foot forward along the carpeted landing and tried to find the next step. Thirst swelled in his throat and chest, jittering across his raw bones as he eased down the stairs and into the dark entrance hall, and out the door into the gray morning. A second after the heated pavement burned the cut-up soles of his feet and reminded him of the boots he had left inside, the muscles in his arm contracted with the pain of a Summons.  
  
.......................................  
  
He jerked awake at the slam of the door and the thunder of running feet.  
  
"What the-?" Blinking, he sat up as best he could, back twingeing. "Severus...?" He turned at the sound of Snape's trunk thudding closed. The gaunt man whipped a black cloak around his shoulders and ran back out. Remus blinked, then blinked again before lying back down and drifting off to sleep once more.  
  
............................................  
  
"Remus? Wake up, my boy." Sleep swirled through his body, buzzing in his fingers and toes, but Dumbledore's voice was insistent. "It's one o'clock in the afternoon, high time to eat something. Molly tells me you haven't been down for food yet today. Would you like some tea and biscuits?"  
  
"Mmpf." Remus felt himself tugged towards the voice, a faint twinge making itself felt in his stomach. "Bisc'ts sn'd gud," he mumbled into his pillow.  
  
"Very good. Now-" There was the sound of tea things clinking. "Why are you so tired, my boy?"  
  
Eyelids as unwieldy as wet sandbags, he attempted to sit up and face the old wizard. "Um..." The fog of sleep still gripped his mind and he struggled vainly for an answer. Dumbledore chuckled and pressed a cup of steaming tea into his hands.  
  
"Drink this." Remus numbly closed his fingers around the cup and lifted it to his mouth, scalding his tongue. "Remus, have you seen Severus?"  
  
Severus? Why would he know about... oh. Memories crashed into him with their typical morning intensity. "Oh." His eyes lost some of their weight, and he lifted them to regard the serious visage of the Headmaster. "Erm, he's not here?"  
  
"No, Remus, he's not." Something in the old Headmaster's tone of voice sparked hotly behind Remus' eyes. He calmly put down his teacup, now fully awake.  
  
"Well, then. Was there something you wanted, Albus?" He didn't trust the ancient wizard's placid demeanor.  
  
"Would you care to explain why he is not here with you?" The words were calmly said, but the spark of heat in Remus blazed up despite his attempts to calm himself.  
  
"No, I wouldn't. Since when exactly have Severus Snape's actions been my responsibility?"  
  
"Remus-"  
  
"No!" He could feel his breath quickening as the tension of the last few weeks burst free of his control. He stood and began pacing while Dumbledore continued to sit calmly on the armchair. "I can't control him! It's not my /responsibility/ to control him! He needs help, Albus. I can't give it - I have my own problems to deal with. I shudder to think of what Mahu is going to say about all these delays, especially over a human wizard."  
  
He turned to face the still sitting Headmaster before continuing, words pouring out faster than he could monitor. "And did you ever think about how all this is affecting me?! Do you think I ever wanted to go into some Muggle slum and score drugs, then have to /carry/ Snape back here because he was too stoned to stand? Do you have any idea how frightening that was?"  
  
He paused, panting with the force of his emotions. He hadn't realized how terrified he had actually been until he said it out loud. "Albus - I can't do this anymore. Please, don't ask me to keep going."  
  
Dumbledore sat calmly, the afternoon sun catching on the tiny golden stars spangling his deep blue robes. "He procured more heroin?"  
  
With a sigh, Remus sat down on the edge of his cot, anger drained by the ancient wizard's calm. "Yeah, last night. I came up here and he was a wreck. He, er, begged me to apparate him to Bankside. If I hadn't, he was going to go out on his own. I figured..."  
  
"You did the right thing, Remus." Dumbledore's unexpected approval washed warmly over Remus and he relaxed a little. "This is, however, a serious problem. May I ask if this has anything to do with the mess in your kitchen?"  
  
"Well..." Remus found himself strangely reluctant to tell Dumbledore about so private a moment, but at Dumbledore's concerned glance toward the little kitchen, Remus relented. "He woke me up this morning, trashing the kitchen. His hands and feet were all cut up from the glass. Then he, uh, poured the heroin down the sink." When he paused, Dumbledore gestured for him to continue. "That's it. Then Molly knocked on the door."  
  
"Do you remember Severus leaving? He managed to leave bloody hand and foot prints all over the corridor; Molly is most angry." The old wizard leaned forward and gazed earnestly at Remus, who wracked his brain. His memory was rather fuzzy on what happened after Molly left.  
  
"I think we got into an argument, and then I went back to sleep." He shrugged, suddenly tired again. "I don't know where he is, Albus."  
  
"Neither do I, my boy, neither do I." Dumbledore leaned back in the worn old chair, the diffuse afternoon light casting warm shadows in his silvery beard as he raised his cup to his mouth.  
  
Remus sighed, feeling guilty despite his best attempts to let it be Someone Else's Problem. "Er, I don't have anything to do today. D'you want me to...?"  
  
"No, no... please, stay nearby so that he is not alone if - when - he returns. He may have been Summoned by Voldemort." He put his cup down on its saucer. "Well then, please contact me if you do see him, Remus. I should be at he school for the remainder of the evening." With that he stood, shook out his dark, star strewn robes, nodded at Remus, and left.  
  
...........................................................  
  
He landed in a disorienting cloud of dust and promptly sneezed, skewing his mask.  
  
"Did you managed to get home safely last time, Snape?" a voice mocked with false sympathy.  
  
"Oh, leave the poor little man alone, can't you see he has problems?" sneered another, and the room around him erupted with hushed laughter. Snape struggled to his feet, wrenching the stupid, blinding mask off his face. He wouldn't need it here, anyway. Glancing around, he took in the faded glory of the Dark Lord's antechamber.  
  
Black cloaked Death Eaters lounged on dusty, old-fashioned armchairs scattered across dirty silk rugs. A few torches lit the soot stained walls, their smoke obscuring the low, blackened ceiling and permeating the room with the scent of ashes and burnt cobwebs. He itched furtively at the departing burn of the Dark Mark and claimed one of the armchairs, ignoring the others and trying not to sneeze again.  
  
"Snape." A voice hissed in his ear and he tried not to flinch.  
  
"What, Bulstrode?" Snape hissed back, fingers tapping jerkily on the arm of the chair. He felt twitchy, unable to relax around the thick, dry burn of thirst in his throat and chest.  
  
"Clean up your act, Snape; you reek. You teach my daughter while drunk or stoned on your filthy Muggle drugs, and I'll-" The heavy, double oak doors at the far end of the dark room creaked open and all sound in the antechamber ceased. Bulstrode's fingers dug painfully into Snape's shoulder, slipping between the prominent bones.  
  
"Malfoy, the Dark Lord wishes to see you." Across the room, a tall, blond figure stood with an elegant swish of silk robes and strode toward the doors. When they closed again with a small puff of dust, Bulstrode jerked at Snape's shoulder and forced his chair around. With a sudden hot surge of anger, Snape stood to confront the blustering, slightly overweight man. They were of about the same height, and Snape glared through watering eyes at the other Death Eater's sharp blue ones.  
  
"You'll what, Bulstrode?" he hissed poisonously. Sickeningly sweet venom pounded behind his eyes and his hands prickled with restrained violence. The bald wizard sneered, a lip lifting to show small, even, and very white teeth set in bloodless gums.  
  
"Listen, you lying, filthy, degenerate scum, I won't have such a wasted excuse for a wizard near my child. If it weren't for the Dark Lord's desperate need for a spy in Dumbledore's school, I'd kill you myself and hang your disgusting carcass from the battlements of Bulstrode Manor. Actually, that would be too good for a penniless Snape bastard – I'll just toss your sorry remains in a rubbish bin somewhere in a back alley off Knockturn-"  
  
CRACK! Snape's bony fist smashed into the other wizard's padded jaw. Bulstrode grunted and reached for his wand and dark cloaked figures dropped their conversations and gathered in a shifting circle around them.  
  
"Draw your wand, Snape," Bulstrode growled thickly through gritted teeth. "I said, draw your wand!" After a moment of silence, Bulstrode laughed. "Coward. You're not worth the effort." He leaned forward and spat in Snape's face. "I'd wear my mask to see the Dark Lord, Snape. Wouldn't want your ugly mug putting the Dark Lord off his food, would you?" Everyone suddenly turned as the double doors groaned open again to discharge a shaky, disheveled Malfoy.  
  
"Snape! He wants to see you now."


	16. Chapter 16

This chapter took an inordinately long time to write, including at least fifteen rewrites and a move into college dorms. Anyway, here it is.

Chapter 16

"He must have been summoned by Voldemort," Remus told himself over and over again as he turned off the rusty shower faucet and reached blindly past the yellowed shower curtain for a towel. "Dumbledore seemed to think so."

Stepping out of the claw-footed old tub, Remus stared blankly at himself in the tarnished mirror hanging over the stained sink. His own face gazed gloomily back through the ripples of the old glass, its profile rendered indistinct by the warped silver backing. With a sigh he picked up his comb and began running it through his water darkened hair and grimaced at how the pale light of the cramped little bathroom's single tiny, heavily frosted window made it appear completely consumed by gray. The dull light filtering through the damp air leached the color out of his skin and even his eyes, leaving them pale and wasted. When a cloud covered the sun and his reflection effectively disappeared; a shiver trickled like icy water down his spine as the mirror consumed him in a gray emptiness.

With a grunt he slammed the door of the bathroom open, breaking the blank monotony of peeling paint and yellowing porcelain. Shuddering at the strange, eerie sense of dislocation within him, he turned back to the mirror and picked up his comb again.

Shrugging into one of his more worn robes, he knelt to pull on his scuffed shoes. The leather was cracked and one of the laces was fraying, but they would hold until the winter at least. As he leaned forward to tie his right shoe he noticed Snape's boots tossed haphazardly in the corner, wedged between the open kitchen door and the wall.

Finished securing his own shoes, he glanced curiously into the kitchen. He wasn't terribly surprised to find the glass shards gone and the bloodstains scoured from the countertops and the floor. Closing the door, he pulled Snape's boots out from the corner and turned them over in his hands. His first impression was that they had once been quite fine. The leather was thick and supple, and the toe was strongly reinforced. After years of making due with his own shoes, however, Remus could see the signs of age and repair in Snape's boots quite clearly.

The steel reinforcements for at least half the lace eyeholes were missing, some replaced with brass or copper. The laces themselves did not match each other exactly, one darker and thinner than the other. The rubber soles, too, were clearly not the originals, and were a good bit newer than the rest of the boot. Remus turned them in his hands, noting the lighter color of the leather where the boots had been stretched at the ankles, the buttery softness of the worn leather at the top where the boots' collars had rubbed against Snape's leg, the shine where they had been polished by the hem of his robes. Remus put them down gently, a frozen melancholy settling quietly over him like an early snow over autumn leaves.

After a moment he stood, brushing dust from the knees and seat of his robes, and stepped out the door and into the darkness of the third floor corridor. After the warm, slightly shower-damp air of the little suite, the corridor felt dry and cold, and by the time he reached the door to the basement kitchen, he was fighting a sneeze. He was about to push open the door and see if there was still any lunch out when a dry, claw-like hand gripped his elbow.

"Lupin. A word."

"Moody?" Remus turned, sneeze forgotten, and came face to face with the scarred old Auror. The crazy blue eye swung appraisingly up and down Remus' body, and he felt unaccountably nervous. "What do you want?" The blue eye stopped whirling and Moody sneered, showing a mouthful of broken teeth.

"I'm prepared to listen to your explanation of what's going on before I go and tell Dumbledore, but don't presume to wait on my patience," Moody smirked. Remus' stomach tightened around the hard fact that Moody knew something and the shocked realization that he was being interrogated. What had he done to merit the suspicions of his partners?

"What are you talking about, Moody?" Remus tried to hide his anger and itchy fear, but could feel it creeping out in his voice. Moody sneered again.

"Last night. Care to explain where you were and what was so wrong with Snape's legs that you had to carry him in and up the stairs?"

"He was drunk." He tried to look sincere, but Moody sneered and pressed closer, bringing his scarred face close to Remus'.

"Tell me, Lupin, what was in Snape's pocket?" Remus blinked, blood hot and solid in his unyielding veins.

"I have no idea. Why don't you ask him?" Remus fought the urge to step backward, away from the Auror's verbal assault.

"You are a horrible liar, Lupin. Tell me why Snape had bags of white powder and two Muggle singers in his pocket." Remus felt a drop of icy sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades. His head pounded heavily and his mouth was suddenly dry.

"Singers? He can't fit Muggle singers in his pockets...."

"Don't play games with me, Lupin!" Moody growled, his hot, slightly sour breath suffocating Remus. "Give me one good reason not to go straight to Dumbledore about this!"

Remus sighed. Let Dumbledore deal with his obsessive ex-Auror; Remus had enough to deal with as it was. "Because Dumbledore already knows. If you want to know more, go ask him."

Moody made sure his face remained blank, not betraying his boiling curiosity. With a curt nod he left the obviously flustered younger man and stomped back out of Grimmauld Place.

Snape fell to his knees as soon as he entered the Dark Lord's chambers and the heavy doors closed behind him. He didn't need to look up to know he would be in an oppressively dark room, its windows shrouded in heavy, dusty velvet. He crawled, guided by what he could see from under the edge of his hood, into the dim circle of light cast by the single gilded branch of flickering candles.

The Dark Lord stood ominously before the heavy, age stained oaken chair that served as his throne as Snape creeped forward. Snape stopped, flinching backward as the Dark Lord stepped back and out of his reach, leaving Snape's hand grasping at the air like a grub turned up from the earth. Long habit and the spike of fear quickly disengaged his mind from his emotions, a layer of numbness coating his thoughts even as he felt adrenaline and dread cramp his muscles and churn in his stomach. He felt the odd, familiar mechanical slowing of his thoughts as they separated from the impetus for their action. Intellectually, he could see that the Dark Lord was furious, and he struggled to find the emotion to excite his thought processes into motion. His body was flooded with fright and sick anticipation, but his mind floated above the viscous sea of his emotions, only a nagging thirsty desire that he tried desperately to ignore still capable of distracting him. A thirst he would be unable to quench if he didn't leave alive... his thoughts quickened.

"Severusssss." The Dark Lord's soft, bloodless voice slid into his ears like ice crystals, and he watched in a clinical manner as his body began to shake in fear, muscles contracting in anticipation of pain as his subconscious animal brain continued to respond to stimuli. He knew the Dark Lord took obscene pleasure in the fear of his followers.

"My Lord! My Lord, please allow me the honor of touching your robes - " He dispassionately regarded the hot, familiar shame that flooded his chest at the shaking, uncontrollable whine in his voice and the desperate reach of his hand. The Dark Lord sneered.

"And allow you to sully me with your filthy paws? Worms would weep to have you named as one of them." The Dark Lord began to pace and Snape's body twitched involuntarily at each sharp click of a heel.

"It is time for you to become useful, Severus."

Remus watched the grizzled old man stomp out the door into the dazzling afternoon sunlight and felt the wave of heated air that pushed through the door at his exit. Remus sighed again and turned to push open the door to the kitchen.

The light filtering through the high, dusty windows had the same diffuse quality as the light that had erased him in the grayness of his bathroom, leaving Remus with a faint sense of unease as he crossed the long room to where a variety of blackened pots, scoured pans and dented tea kettles all hung on a bleached wood drying rack. Even his personal favorite tea kettle, a bright, cheerful, copper pot-bellied affair, seemed leached of life by the pale light the windows managed to wring out of the bright afternoon. Poor Sirius, stuck in this dead place...

With a shock, he realized how long it had been since he had last thought about his dearly departed friend. Cold, tingling guilt welled up out of Remus' chest at the thought that Sirius' worst enemy was now taking up all of his time. I guess he won in the end, Padfoot, he ruminated glumly, and felt a ridiculous urge to cry at his own absurdly immature thoughts. Choking on a sobbing laugh, he grabbed the little copper teakettle off of the rack, not caring as the pots and pans almost rattled off the stand with the force of his motion. I'm losing it, Padfoot; I'm really losing it. Despite the tears blurring his vision, he managed to put together a decent pot of tea and was soon sitting at the scarred table nursing a chipped ceramic cup of Earl Grey.

Through the wet sounds of his own breathing he could hear the pulse of the old mansion around him. The muffled steps from the floors above as someone strode down the corridor caused the walls around him to creak; heavy steps on the stairs jangled the windows in their leaded frames. A muffled shout was followed by the squealing of trainers on hardwood floors. Remus felt dampened, like an early morning fog. Pressure in his ears muted the immediacy of the world around him...

"- I'm not cleaning up after you, boys, so you had better get to work making that room habitable for Harry – oh, Remus! There you are!" Molly Weasley bustled into the kitchen, breaking the stillness of the dim room. The twins followed her, heads hanging theatrically, but winking to each other as soon as their mother's back was turned. "I was wondering if you would ever wake up; Dumbledore told me not to bother you. You must be famished – there's some cold cuts and sliced bread in the icebox, if you want something to eat. Here, I'll make you a sandwich." As soon as Mrs. Weasley's back was turned, her wayward progeny made for the door. "Hold it, you two. I want that room spotless, you hear me?"

"How d'you do that, mum?"

"Yeah, really, it just isn't fair, you know."

"Hey, maybe we could create a sweet that gives you eyes in the back of your-"

"Parental pasties - "

"Go clean up that room!! Mustard, Remus dear?"

"Yes, please, Molly," he replied, a tiny smile bubbling up out of somewhere to tug at his mouth as the twins scrambled out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. He could hear their trainers squeaking as they took the sharp turn onto the first floor landing, and his mood settled heavily back over his shoulders. Wait a minute – "Did you say Harry's coming hom – er, to Grimmauld Place?" A sharp wire of panic slithered through his gut. Harry and Snape got on together like a lit match and dry tinder, and Remus knew he would be in the middle of it all. He told himself that the sinking feeling in his chest had nothing to do with the thought of having to deal with Harry's grief over Sirius, before he himself had managed to come to grips with even a small part of his own sorrow. His morose thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley plopping a thick sandwich down on the table in front of him.

"Yes he is, the poor dear, finally getting away from those awful Muggle relatives of his. He'll be here where we can take care of him. Oh, the poor boy," she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her flowered apron, "he'll be wanting his Godfather..." Noticing Remus' increasing gloom at the mention of his cherished friend, she cleared her throat and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Remus, it'll be all right." At her quiet words, Remus could feel his face heat as hot, salty tears welled up in his throat, the fear and exhaustion and grief of the past month hammering through him. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep the building wail inside, he tried to turn away but a pair of motherly arms wrapped around him and released his sob. "Sh, sh, Remus..."

Remus was beyond embarrassment as he was folded into the welcoming embrace, not noticing when Mrs. Weasley surreptitiously put up a simple privacy charm. It wasn't long, however, before he managed to grip his emotions again and pulled away to fish his handkerchief out of his sleeve to wipe his running eyes and nose. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I shouldn't have fallen apart like that..." He blew his nose again, fighting the strange urge to tell Mrs. Weasley everything, to spew out all the acid feelings that had been building up inside him, to release the words pressing into his mouth. Mrs. Weasley must have read his reluctance in his eyes, because she smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You don't have to tell, me, Remus, Dumbledore told me you were going through a rough patch right now - " They both looked up as a muffled boom sounded from above. "Ooh, those two, if they've blown up the room... Excuse me, Remus. Honestly, they've finally got their own flat to demolish..." She charged out the door to the kitchen, leaving Remus tired and slightly dazed, hot embarrassment enflaming his skin.

The sun had sunk in a blaze of fiery glory through the smoke stained air above London, and the brooding old mansion was unusually quiet. Dusty blue shadows pressed in on the coppery squares of sky visible through the leaded panes of glass that made up the parlor windows, but Remus felt too weighted down to even wave his wand and light some candles. The darkness slowly swallowed the sky as color drained beneath the horizon. Sinking deeper into the musty chair, Remus tried not to feel claustrophobic as the hot, heavy air pressed down on him.

Everyone was at Hogwarts, planning the next day's smuggling expedition for Harry. Unable to gather the energy to even leave his seat, Remus waited, worrying listlessly. The first stars were beginning to show and the house next door had begun to play muffled Muggle rap music when a sharp tap at the window signaled an incoming owl.

Remus heaved himself to his feet and reached over to unlatch the window. The old latch had been painted over a long time ago and it now left white flecks on his palm as he pushed it. A Great Horned owl flew in on silent wings, bringing the scent of night into the parlor with a subtle change of pressure and a puff of cooling air.

The neighbor's music was loud in Remus' ears as he reached for the letter clasped in the owl's fearsome talons. It blinked huge, burnished copper eyes at him as he read the letter.

_Dear Remus,_

_Not ten minutes ago, Severus returned to his rooms at Hogwarts. He refuses to speak with me, but has agreed to talk to you._

_The floo in my office is connected to Headquarters._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Remus looked up from the letter with several conflicting emotions churning in his chest.

On one hand, he felt a sullen resignation toward Dumbledore's tugging on the puppet strings. On the other hand, he felt surprised shock that Snape would rather give his report to Remus instead of Dumbledore. His tickling curiosity nipped at his mind, and he couldn't help but feel... what? Not touched, exactly, but... was this the extended hand of friendship?

"Ouch!" He jumped and almost dropped the letter when the large owl reached over and nipped his finger. Glancing into the lamp like eyes, he muttered an apology. "Tell the Headmaster I'll be there." As soon as the words left his mouth, the owl launched itself powerfully from its perch and left on hushed velvet wings.

Remus found himself spat out of the hearth and onto the plush carpet of Dumbledore's office. A single magical lamp was lit, its low light casting a warm glow across the desk littered with papers and delicate silver instruments turned golden by he warm glow. A sleepy trill greeted him from the gilded phoenix perch and he turned to see the fiery bird outlined by the deep blue evening sky.

"Hey, Fauks. Where's the Headmaster?" The graceful head dipped and he looked pointedly at the desk. Remus followed the phoenix's gaze and saw a scrap of parchment with his name on it.

_-Remus -_

_I am occupied at the Order meeting. I am sure you remember your way to the dungeons._

_Thank you for your kind and caring aid in this matter,_

_Albus Dumbledore-_

"That's me, caring and kind. Good old Remus." Remus sighed to himself. "Don't bother to show me the door, Fauks, I know where it is."

He couldn't help but feel slightly manipulated, he mused as he came down the moving staircase and stepped absently past the gargoyle. But at the same time, he knew that he owed it to the old wizard who had risked so much for him, and probably owed it to Snape, too.

He didn't pause until he had reached the now familiar green shield with its embossed silver serpent. He stood, momentarily stilled by a shifting sense of uneasiness. Shaking his head he reached up and knocked firmly. The heavy metal boomed hollowly and rebounded slightly off its frame. After waiting and receiving no answer to his knocks, Remus pulled out his wand.

Remus' prickly unease increased as the shield swung open at his simple 'alohamora'. The room beyond was dimly lit, too dark for his eyes to immediately pierce. Through the cool, night tinged currents that traveled the dungeon corridors, Remus could feel the heavier, almost stale air of the room before him. "Severus?" He hesitated for a moment before stepping across the threshold and into the room, holding the door ajar behind him. "Sev-" There was a grunt, and as his eyes adjusted Remus could see Snape jerking up from where he had been sprawled across the worn blue couch dominating the small parlor.

"L-lupin? But -" Snape stopped, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the light from the corridor. As he shifted, Remus could see a bottle clutched tight in his trembling hands. Remus stood awkwardly in the doorway, his nose wrinkling at the sharp, heavy scent of alcohol worming its way into his sinuses. A heavy, hopeless melancholy began to settle across his shoulders.

"You didn't set your wards... d'you mind if I light some candles?" He felt wooden, every motion aborted by a counter motion as he struggled with what to do.

Find out where he's been, then leave. That's all you have to do. He shook his head. Try and help, damnit, don't run away! What if people had run away from you when you needed help? When Snape failed to respond, Remus flicked his wand and lit the small, almost cave like room. "Merlin, Snape!"

Snape sat shakily on the edge of the couch, his large hooked nose framed by the greasy curtain of hair falling in his eyes. One cheekbone was bruised, the eye above it swollen half shut and blackened. His chin was heavily shadowed with stubble, and the old cut over his eye had reopened and was seeping a thin stream of yellowish fluid. The black robe he was wearing was streaked gray with dust, and Remus could see bare feet poking out from under the hem. They were bruised, the toenails outlined in dried blood. Remus remembered Snape stepping barefoot across the crushed glass littering the floor of the tiny kitchen in the suite back at Grimmauld Place, and the old, if well cared for, boots left in the corner.

"Er, you left your boots, this morning..." Remus mentioned, looking away with his stomach churning uneasily with disgust as Snape absently took an unsteady swig from the bottle, still watching Remus. Does he have any idea how... pathetic he looks sucking on a bottle? That was not a helpful thought, Remus. Under the reek of the alcohol, Remus could smell sharp pain, the buzz of shame, old sweat, and a hint of the slow seep of infection. "Sn - Severus..." He didn't know what to say. Snape's unbruised eye was red rimmed and bright, as if he had been crying, and his cheekbones and nose flushed. A million questions crowded his mind, but memories of what his mother had done for him after a Change, when he woke up bloody and battered and helpless, pushed to the front of his mind. "Okay, Severus, let's get you cleaned up."

The staffroom was warmly lit, the windows open to the forest scented summer night breeze. The trill of crickets and the occasional hoot of the school owls wafted in on the fresh gusts of air. Around the table sat the inner core of the Order, laughing and talking earnestly as they waited for the Headmaster to return from whatever had needed his attention. The Weasleys had gathered around the end of the table nearest the window, while the Aurors had claimed the seats nearest the door. A middle aged brunette witch and a pinch-faced Ministry wizard were arguing animatedly with Arthur and Molly Weasley. Mad Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were conferring quietly while Tonks glanced at the door.

"What d'you think ol' Dumbledore's up to?" she asked absently, nudging Moody with her elbow. The old ex-Auror chuckled nastily.

"Oh, I reckon I have a pretty good idea," he laughed, ignoring Shacklebolt's warning frown. "Snape. The Werewolf, too, I'd wager."

"What about Remus?" she asked with a small frown, turning and focusing on Moody properly.

Moody cackled, electric blue eye swinging around. "Those two came in at one in the morning last night, Snape all done up on some Muggle drug. Probably the same one he was on when we first caught 'im, years back." He narrowed his eyes as Tonks' widened and he ignored Shacklebolt's half curious, half censoring gaze.

"What drug...?" Tonks was watching him sharply. Moody smirked inwardly - he had seen the looks she cast at Lupin. Perhaps she might convince Lupin of his folly in aiding the slimy murdering Death Eater scum.

"Herin, or something like that," he said with calculated nonchalance. Tonks' father had been a Muggle; she might know something useful about it.

"Heroin? That's a very dangerous drug. Are you sure-?"

"I know next to nothing about Muggle drugs. I do remember him screaming for it in the holding cell at Azkaban, before that travesty of a trial." He frowned past Tonks at the door to the staffroom. "Got away with killing more people than are in this room, the bastard did, and now he's teaching children. A bloody shame." He paused for a moment as something clicked in his mind. "Did you say the drug is dangerous?"

"Yeah. Rots your brain, it does. Go in any Muggle slum, you'll find heroin addicts, too far gone to get off the street -" Moody cut her off.

"Addicts? It's addictive? How addictive?" An idea was squirming to life in the back of his head.

Tonks gave him a thoughtful look. "Very, I think. Why?"

Moody fought to keep his face smooth. "Oh, just curious." She gave him another calculating look and was about to say something when the door to the Staffroom swung open to admit the Headmaster.

"All here? Excellent – shall we begin?"

Remus reached forward and grabbed Snape's sharp, bony elbow. Snape looked at him with dull surprise and let his arm hang limp in Remus' grip. "Wha'?"

Remus was unnerved by Snape's lack of anger. He had expected Snape to burst furiously at his touch, had expected a struggling, spitting, hissing handful. "Uh - Severus?" Had he been cursed with a befuddlement hex? Were these the signs of long-term exposure to the Cruciatus Curse? Or is he just drunk? Remus sat down on the dusty couch next to Snape who promptly slumped away from him, sloshing alcohol out onto his hand.

"Why're ye 'ere?" Snape slurred, eyes unfocused. His body seemed to be wracked with uneven waves of trembling.

"Dumbledore asked me to see how you were doing. Why didn't you let him in?" At Remus' words, Snape flushed. You didn't want him to see you like this, did you? "Come on, you need to have your eye looked at. At least let me clean that cut." Remus stood and reached for Snape's arm again, but he pulled it clumsily out of his reach.

"No! Go 'way!"

"Severus-" Remus reached again and snagged the flailing arm. "Come on – bloody – hell, Snape - " He pulled the other man off the couch, almost unbalancing when Snape stumbled and fell to his knees. Kneeling, Remus slung Snape's arm across his shoulders and heaved him to his feet. Snape moaned slightly and leaned his head on Remus' shoulder; he managed to suppress the urge to gag at the gin soaked breath in his face and hauled Snape to the bathroom, flicking his wand with his free hand and lighting the small, tiled room. Sitting Snape on the cover of the toilet, Remus grasped his shoulders and tilted his head to the light.

Snape's unbruised eye rolled loosely into his skull before facing forward again. The other eye was surrounded by puffy, deep purplish black and green tissue that made his eye appear three times its normal size. The eye itself was closed to a mere slit and was leaking fluid. The swelling had stretched the skin over his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose painfully tight. "Merlin, Snape! What happened to you?!"

Snape mumbled something unintelligible and tried to raise the bottle to his mouth. Remus easily restrained his arm, and Snape looked at him in dull surprise before trying to lift it to his mouth again. When that failed he gaped silently for a moment before he turned away. Remus realized he was crying.

"Severus? What's – what's wrong?"

"Gerrout!"

"Severus – tell me - "

"G-go!"

"I'll go when you tell me what's wrong," Remus tried.

"Will ye – really?" Snape sniffed, gazing pleadingly through his good eye.

Remus felt an unfamiliar jolt of deviousness and gritted his teeth to keep his tongue from abandoning him. "I'll leave – if you give me a Wizard's Oath that you will sit down and talk to me when I want and for as long as I deem necessary." He felt dirty, slimy inside as he forced the words out.

"Wiz'd's Oath? Ye'll leave?"

"Yes. I'll leave right now."

"Awright."

I'll never be able to live with myself again, Remus thought to himself as he raised his wand.


End file.
